


Mercy and its Consequences

by Jordan_Marine



Series: Mercy, Insight, Faith [1]
Category: The Talon Saga - Julie Kagawa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Faith Redemption, Faith murders her way into a redemption arc, Gen, Major Character Injury, Post-Rogue, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Team Vegas, Team as Family, Trauma, Underage Smoking, Wes acting as medic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jordan_Marine/pseuds/Jordan_Marine
Summary: Faith lives through Vegas through no action of her own, and sees only one option: correct her mistake. Hunt down Ember. Redeem herself in Talon's eyes and do any and everything necessary to achieve that goal.It doesn't work how she planned.
Relationships: Dante Hill & Faith (The Talon Saga), Ember Hill & Faith (The Talon Saga), Ember Hill & Wesley Higgins, Ember Hill/Faith (The Talon Saga), Mist Anderson & Faith (The Talon Saga)
Series: Mercy, Insight, Faith [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976878
Comments: 58
Kudos: 6





	1. Pity

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for EIGHTEEN MONTHS, guys.
> 
> It's fun to be posting Talon, again. This series is going to consist of three parts, the first of which is written completely and only needs to be edited. I'm hoping to update approximately once a week (no firm update schedule). 
> 
> Also, as you can see in the tags, there's some gnarly stuff in here, so keep that in mind, please. Specific Triggers (within Depictions of Violence) include serious injury, descriptions of medical procedures, descriptions of murder. So, be warned.

One moment, Ember thought she was about to die.

And then Faith was dying.

Ember watched, almost numb, as Faith struggled to rise from the ground, wings beating frantically on the cement floor of the warehouse. There was dark blood smearing the ground around her, iron mingling with the smell of burnt skin until Ember’s head spun and her stomach clenched with nausea. Faith gasped and shuddered as she finally seemed to give up. She collapsed on the ground.

“No…” Ember heard her whisper. “No no no no no, I can’t die like this. Not like this.”

Ember’s legs shook. Faith was dying. She had just been shot by someone who knew  _ exactly _ how to kill a dragon. 

“Can’t die yet,” Faith whimpered. Her wings were still twitching, and her eyes were turning glassy. “Not yet. I still have things I need to…”

Faith was a Viper. She’d been sent to kill them, and she would’ve done it without a moment’s hesitation, because that’s what she had been trained for. She had been  _ about  _ to. She needed to die if she and Garret were going to walk out of the warehouse alive. Ember had no reason to feel sympathy or remorse. And if she did, she had the right to ignore it.

“I… I can’t…”

But Ember  _ wasn’t  _ a Viper.

Ember let herself shift back into her human skin and stumbled over to Faith, the burns under her suit aching aching with every movement. Faith twitched and wretched dark blood onto the ground.

“I’m here,” Ember whispered. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she couldn’t just stand there as someone died. “We… we can get you help, okay? You’ll be okay.” Ember searched Faith’s body and found two bullet holes, right under her foreleg, straight to her heart.

Faith shuddered again and pushed against Ember weakly, claws digging into her shoulder. Ember was in human form, nothing separating her from claws and teeth that could rip through her like paper, but she ignored it and pressed her hand to the wounds. 

Her hands were dirty.

“I… I wanted… to be her best student,” Faith whispered. She coughed up acrid smoke and more blood. There was so much  _ blood.  _ “Her only student.”

“You are,” Ember said. Blood seeped between her fingers. “You’re the Viper out of the two of us. You got through the program. You— you’re  _ definitely  _ the favorite.” She turned around. Garret stood behind her, gun still in hand, eyes wide. “Get help! Please!”

“Ember…”

“C-call Wes, or something!  _ Please! _ ”

“Ember, she tried to kill us. Both of us. And… there’s not much to be—”

“Get  _ someone! _ ”

Garret looked like he was about to argue, but then turned on his heel and ran back through the warehouse. Ember turned back to Faith. She was still breathing, raspy and shallow, and she locked her eyes with Ember. Yellow-gold, like Riley’s, filled with a hatred and pain that she had never seen on him. That she didn’t want to see on anyone, ever again.

“You… you know this won’t matter.”

“I don’t care.” Ember whispered, even though she did. That morning— twelve, thirteen hours ago?— she had killed a man for the first time. She hadn’t even thought about it before she pulled the trigger and someone was dead. She couldn’t watch someone else die and do nothing to stop it. She wasn’t a Viper. She was supposed to be better than that.

Faith gave a wet, rasping laugh. “ _ Weak. _ ”

Faith was shaking, straining for every breath. She didn’t want to die, either. 

Ember swallowed and pursed her lips. There wasn’t anything that she could do, other than press her aching, dirty hands to the same person who she had just set on fire, had clamped her jaws around, fully prepared to rip her throat out. She should let Faith die. It wasn’t about being heartless, it was about being smart, it was about  _ surviving. _

“We can get you help,” Ember rasped. “Just hang in there for a bit longer.  _ Please. _ ”

“You’re—” she coughed again, and she didn’t breathe for a few seconds afterwards. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Ember agreed, voice breaking. She could hear Garret come up beside her, talking on the phone.

“So you have contact with Riley? Could you put him on the phone? You’re not— yes, she’s still alive, but it’s looking bad. I  _ know _ that it’s a bad idea to help her, but Ember isn’t exactly going to... Will you do it or not?” he paused. “We’re in the warehouse, still. Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “Okay. Thank you, uh, sir. Sebastian, out.”

He knelt next to her and took off his hoodie.

“Here, put this to her side,” he said. “It’s… it’s probably cleaner than your hands, at least.”

Ember took it and pressed it onto the wounds, ignoring the whimper that Faith gave. She was  _ small.  _ Almost as small as Dante was. 

“Wes found Riley, and they’re both on their way. I’m not sure if they’re going to help her, but if they do, then she might live,” he said softly. “Ember, this is a  _ bad  _ idea. I know that this is— this is a dragon, and you don’t want her to die, and… she played all of us. We  _ all  _ thought that she was a scared kid. But she’s  _ not.  _ she tried to kill the both of us. And if she lives, you might have to have this fight again down the road. And she’s a Viper. Even in the Order, we knew that going against one of those meant we probably weren’t making it out in one piece.”

Faith groaned, but when Ember looked at her, she was barely conscious. Her claws twitched from time to time, and she coughed out blood between every other shallow breath, but she was dying quickly. Garret’s hoodie was already saturated with blood. Ember didn’t know how much blood a dragon could afford to lose. Ember didn’t know much of  _ anything. _

Ember was so far out of her depth that some part of her wanted to laugh. She knew how to do stitches, sure— Dante’s skin would sometimes split open when he shifted, and he hated doctors more than anything else in the world— but even if she had the supplies to do that, it wouldn’t help her ribs, or her lungs, or her  _ heart _ . She was dead. She was already dead; it was just taking some time to stick.

“Ember… I don’t want to be cruel,” Garret whispered. “But we need to think about  _ ourselves.  _ It might be best to let her—”

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

Garret shut his mouth. Ember pursed her lips into a grimace as Faith shifted underneath her, muscles going taunt. For a moment, Ember thought that she tried to say something, but if she had, it came out a gurgle. She shuddered again.

“It didn’t hit her heart,” Garret broke the silence. “She’d be dead if it did. But it definitely hit her lung. Maybe both of them.”

“And that means…”

“She’s going to drown in her own blood unless help and supplies come quickly,” he said. Ember gulped and nodded. Wes  _ was  _ coming, which meant that he was at least considering helping. And Riley was with him. Riley was alive, and he was safe. It was going to be okay.

“I can’t let her die, Garret,” she said softly. “I would’ve been like her if Riley hadn’t come by. I can’t…”

“I know,” Garret nodded. “I might not understand, but I know. I don’t know if Wes or Riley will see it that way, but…”

“Ember.”

Ember froze and felt the fire in her chest spark back to life. She didn’t need to turn around to imagine Riley. She wanted to turn around and run to him, make sure that he was still as alive as he sounded, that he was still  _ real,  _ but there was still a dying dragon in front of her. She needed to keep pressure on the wound, because there wasn’t anything else she could do, so she was going to  _ do this  _ until someone forcibly removed her.

“We need to go, Ember,” Riley continued softly. “I know that this hurts, but she’s past the point of no return. If we saved her life, she’d turn around and kill us.” Ember blinked harshly as she felt Riley kneel down next to her, opposite to Garret. “You’ve done everything for her already. The last moments she was lucid, she wasn’t alone. But we need to go before Talon gets here.”

“ _ No, _ ” Ember shook her head, hands shaking. “If we help her, then— then maybe—”

“Ember, she’s a  _ Viper.  _ She was trained by Lilith. It would… Talon is her everything, at this point. Being saved by rogues would make her an outcast, which would only make her hate us more. It’s not fair, but we need to leave her.” His eyes scanned over Faith, brow crinkling. “She’s nearly dead, anyway. This is certainly nothing  _ I  _ can fix.”

“Please, I… I can’t…” she felt her chin tremble. Dragons couldn’t cry, but she could still feel the pain, even if she didn’t have anything to show for it. “She knew Dante.” She didn’t know why that felt important, but it did, so she clung to that. “She knows Dante, and if she dies, he’ll think— he’ll think I’m— that I let it happen… I can’t. I’m not like her. I’m  _ not. _ ”

She felt more than saw Riley deflate.

“We can stay with her until she dies,” he offered softly. “That’s all I can give.”

“Please help,” Ember whispered. “I can’t live with this on my head.”

“Yes you can. I promise you can. I learned how to, and I can help you. But you have to let her go.”

“No.”

“Ember—”

“Bloody hell,” Wes whispered behind her. Then he all but shoved Riley out of the way, setting a white kit beside him. “I’ll help her.”

“Wes—”

“Riley, if you and Ember argue back and forth, then by the time you come around to her side and order me to save the bloody Viper’s life, there won’t be anything I can do. I’m going to save everyone a bit of pain and skip that part, so  _ I  _ won’t have to lose a patient,” he snapped. Riley gaped. “Even if it’s an  _ awful  _ idea. Your hatchling’s going to get us all killed, and when she does, I’ll blame you from the afterlife.”

Wes took a breath, looking over Faith. Riley was still staring at him.

“Wes, we don’t have much time before Talon sends a cleanup crew. If we’re stuck here when they come, then we’re in trouble. And if Faith lives—”

“I know the risks better than you, so be helpful or piss off,” Wes snapped. He took another breath. “St. George is going to need to steal a car. Something that can fit a dragon and has tinted windows. And either find or steal something that we can transport her with, unless he finds a way to get a car in here,” he said levelly. “Riley, I’m going to need a few doses of ketamine and the usual surgical supplies as quickly as possible. Ember, you’re going to stay here and try to keep her from... dying. Or killing us.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the warehouse.

“ _ Go, _ ” Wes snapped. Garret stood first. Then Riley gave a solemn nod and rose.

“If Talon shows up…”

“We ditch the Viper and run and warn you not to come back,” Wes said. “Meet up as usual.”

“Good luck,” Riley said, eyes falling on Ember. “You’re going to need it.”

Wes nodded. Riley turned on his heel and ran into the darkness of the warehouse, leaving Ember alone with Wes, kneeling next to a dragon who had just tried to kill her.

“Wes, thank—”

“Fuck you,” Wes interrupted, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. “This is an  _ awful  _ idea, and someday you will look back at this and realize that. The moment she wakes up, she’ll be gunning for all of us.” He shifted Faith’s foreleg and replaced Ember’s hands with his, which all but pushed Ember out of the space. “There’s a flashlight in the kit, I’m going to need you to hold it while I work, and— oh shite.”

“What?”

“Her pulse is way weaker than I thought it’d be,” Wes muttered.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that she probably shouldn’t be alive right now, so we need to hurry up,” he said, pulling out a syringe and injecting her with whatever was inside it. Ember found the flashlight and clicked it on. Wes uncovered the bullet wound and cut a few scales loose with a scalpel, showing swollen and irritated skin underneath. He began stitching the wound, precise and quick, and moved onto the next one with the same efficiency. His gloves were drenched in blood, but he didn’t seem to register that fact as he taped gauze to the site and managed to lift her up partially to secure the bandages and put additional pressure on the wound. Faith growled slightly in her sleep. “Oh, shut up, I’m trying to help your ungrateful arse.”

“Did… did you just tell her to shut up?”

“Yes.” Wes said. He continued to work, occasionally giving Ember a terse order to hand him something or move the flashlight. Faith’s breathing remained labored, sometimes stopping for a few seconds at a time. But the bleeding stopped, and Wes reported that her heartbeat was a bit more stable, even if it was too weak to be safe. She’d twitch and growl whenever he was too harsh, but Wes didn’t even flinch. 

“Is she going to make it?” Ember asked softly.

“Maybe. I can’t do much for her here, other than immediate stabilization. I still have to take the bullets out, which could kill her. And make sure her burns won’t be infected, if they aren’t already. And fix the bloody holes in her lungs…  _ god,  _ I could avoid so much stress if I hadn’t decided to learn how to patch people up. Maybe it would make you lizards consider thinking things through before you run off and nearly get yourself killed.” He looked at Ember and let out a long breath. “And you’re burnt, too. After this is over, you’re telling me how the hell you managed that. I’m not good with burns.”

Faith wheezed on the ground, going rigid as she struggled to draw in breath. Wes swore vehemently and grabbed a syringe from the first aid kit, running it down with an alcohol wipe and pulling the plunger out. He lifted her foreleg away from her chest and rolled her more onto her back. Ember scrambled around him to keep the flashlight shining on her chest.

“Okay, shite, what’s happening is that there’s air in her chest cavity, which is collapsing one or both of her lungs and putting pressure on her heart. I’m going to stab her with this needle, which is going to alleviate the tension,” Wes spoke quickly. He put her foreleg to rest on his shoulder and pressed on her chest, as if looking for something. Faith managed a weak cough. Then she stopped breathing altogether. Ember’s blood froze. “Just… keep her arm from slashing open my back, please.”

Ember nodded. Wes took a breath, aimed the needle, and drove it into her ribs.

The reaction was immediate. 

Faith snarled, still-glassy eyes snapping wide open. Ember seized her foreleg before it could make confetti out of Wes’ skin, but there wasn’t anything that she could do when Faith turned her neck and snapped her jaws at him. 

Wes managed to raise his arm to protect his chest and neck right before her teeth sunk deep into his forearm.

He screamed, the sound echoing into the warehouse. Ember held Faith’s foreleg tightly. It took all of her strength to keep it from attacking Wes. Faith dug her teeth in deeper and jerked her head, eliciting another sharp scream.

“Bloody fucking hell, mother _ fucker! _ ” he gasped, hand clenching into a fist. “I…  _ fucking  _ knew that this wasn’t going to end well for me.  _ Ow.  _ Ow. Fuck.” He took another breath. Then another. Faith’s foreleg relaxed as her breathing evened out— whatever the stabbing had done, it was working. Her jaw relaxed as well, but not enough to free Wes’ arm. Her head fell back to the ground, and Wes scrambled to move with her.

“Wes—”

“Shut up,” he snapped. His voice was tight and shaking. “ _ Shite.  _ Ow.” He moved his other hand to her jaw and pressed on her cheek, which parted her teeth just enough for him to wrench his arm out with a pained yelp. He took a deep, shaking breath and held his arm above his head. Blood gushed from it, running down his arm and onto his shirt, staining it crimson. He used his other hand to press an area in his bicep, right above his elbow. “Oh, she hit an artery, that’s bloody fantastic. Can you find a tourniquet for me?”

“A what?”

“A tourniquet. It’s in a ziploc bag labelled  _ tourniquet.  _ Ow, bloody hell. She doesn’t even need to be conscious to make my life harder. I can’t bloody  _ believe  _ I’m doing this,” he said and fired off another few curses. Ember found the bag and passed it to him. He fastened the cloth on his upper arm and tightened it until the bleeding became more sluggish. Blood was starting to drip onto the ground, mingling with Faith’s. 

They were both covered in it. Ember was pretty sure she’d never be clean again.

“ _ This  _ is why I hate working with dragons,” he muttered, waving the arm that had just been ripped open. Ember swore she could see bone. “‘Hey Wes, stitch up a delirious dragon who hates you. Nothing can go wrong here!’ And then you act all  _ shocked  _ when I get—  _ ow—  _ bitten. And it’ll get infected, too, I can guarantee it, dragon’s mouths are nasty. Dammit, this  _ hurts. _ ”

He grabbed a roll of bandages and wrapped his arm up quickly, then wrapped it again with another type of bandages, even though Ember doubted that it could do much. She knew how powerful a dragon’s jaws were— his arm was probably broken. He flexed his fingers a few times— he couldn’t seem to move all of them properly— and turned back to Faith, pressing a hand to the stitched up bullet holes.

“Stitches didn’t break,” he said. “This is all that I can do until Riley gets here. After that fiasco, I’m  _ not  _ setting her ribs until she’s on tranquilizers.” He looked Ember in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not okay with leaving her to die? Because I’d be fine with undoing my work.”

Ember ignored his comment. “Is your arm going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’ll set the break, suture what needs to be repaired, disinfect, and bandage everything up when that one’s stable enough to leave alone,” Wes sighed, glancing at Ember, who must have been giving him a certain look, because he rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think that this is my first time getting attacked by a dragon who I’m trying to stitch up?”

Ember winced. Wes removed the needle, taped the puncture, and took his gloves off. Then he took out a notepad and wrote a few things down, looking from the paper to the first aid kit several times.

“What are you doing?” Ember asked.

“Inventory.” he flipped the notepad shut and closed the first aid kit. “To make sure I won’t run out of supplies when I need it. Between you and Faith, I’m running low on…  _ everything.  _ Bloody fantastic. Hopefully whatever Riley gets will be enough to fix her  _ and  _ restock, but until then, none of you are allowed to get injured in the near future.”

Ember gulped. “No promises.”

“Well, then no promises of medical aid,” he muttered. “I’m a hacker, not a doctor. What I’m doing now is  _ way  _ above my paygrade.”

_ At least you know how to do it.  _ Ember looked over Faith, whose eyes had closed. Her feet and wings would occasionally twitch, and her breaths scraped and gurgled.

“Thank you,” Ember whispered softly. Wes groaned and rubbed that the bandages around his arm, already discolored in some places. He cringed. “Can you tell how bad your arm is?”

“She got me with her front teeth, thankfully. It’ll make stitching a pain, but if she had caught me with her back then my arm would be functionally useless for the next few months. The back teeth of a dragon are actually  _ made  _ for breaking open bone, and the front are for tearing through— nevermind. If you don’t already know this, I doubt you care. I definitely have a crushed radius. Fractured ulna in several places, if I had to guess, and probably a  _ lot  _ of muscle damage. Hurts to move my fingers, but I  _ can  _ move them, so I’ll say that the tendon damage is manageable.”

“That’s good,” Ember said, even though she barely remembered what a tendon was from her anatomy class. Wes nodded. He was glaring at Faith, unconscious on the floor. Her breathing was shallow and rasping, but it was steady. That was the best that Ember could hope for, in their situation.

Footsteps echoed through the warehouse, making Ember tense. She could hear a faint beeping coming towards them, as well. That didn’t make sense. It sounded like some sort of… construction equipment.

“Ember, Wes,” Riley rounded the corner, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Is she still alive?”

“Alive and lethal,” Wes said. Riley handed him the duffle, and Wes looked through it. He gave a nod and stood. Ember noticed that he held his arm slightly behind himself, as if trying to hide it from Riley. “I assume that the beeping would be St. George with a... forklift?”

“Yeah. Is she going to survive a trip?” Riley asked. He furrowed his brow. “And  _ what  _ happened to your arm?”

“Faith happened. She’ll live, maybe, but everything’s probably infected. This wasn’t exactly a sterile environment.”

Riley nodded and ran his hands through his hair. His eyes met Ember’s, and his brow creased fractionally. Ember swallowed and looked away. She knew that she had to look like a wreck, too. They  _ all  _ did. The burn on her cheek ached and itched. She was probably covered in just as much blood as Wes. And there was a dying Viper on the floor between them, who probably didn’t deserve to be saved.

“Okay,” Riley said. His voice came out even. “Let’s get out of here.”


	2. Resentment

Faith was in pain. That was the first thing she realized.

She wasn’t sure where she was, or what had happened. Something about Ember Hill and the soldier that she needed to kill. There had been a fight, and… she had  _ lost  _ the fight. Ember set her on fire, and she let Faith go, and Faith still needed to finish the mission, and then she was shot, and she was dying, and she was  _ scared.  _ And then she was here.

Wherever  _ here _ was.

Faith blinked her eyes open bearily, the lights painful against her skull. She was in a dimly lit room with the windows boarded up. That meant that she wasn’t in Talon. And  _ that  _ meant…

_ Well. Ember Hill truly is an idiot. _

Faith groaned and tried to stand, only for her vision to go blurry and black around the edges. She could feel scales missing on her flank and under her foreleg. There were burns on her neck, back, and face. And she was…  _ very  _ dizzy. Her lungs weren’t working right. Why weren’t her lungs working?

It took her a few minutes before she could properly take stock of her situation. There weren’t any sounds beyond the closed doors other than the hum of an air conditioner. More likely than not, Cobalt and his crew had already cleared out, leaving her alone. The room was nearly empty, other than a bed pressed against the wall and a few sheets of paper lying on the ground. Faith blinked at them and sat down, too tired to stay upright for any longer. They were obviously there on purpose, but she doubted that they would write a parting letter. Then again, she would’ve doubted if they had left her alive.

(Why was she alive, again?)

Well, she wouldn’t get anything done staring at them. Faith growled to herself and shifted back into human form, only to be met with a wave of aching pain deep in her chest. She ground her teeth and braced her hands on the floor, struggling to stay upright. When she coughed, she tasted iron on the back of her throat _. _

Slowly, her vision returned and she managed to take a few breaths without her lungs feeling about as useful as tissue paper. Faith grabbed the papers off the floor, leaning against the wall to keep her sitting upright. It would be so easy to go back to sleep. Leave the problem for a later date, after Talon had found her and her chest was working again. Instead she rifled through the papers. It was, in fact, a letter. 

This made no sense. She shouldn’t even be alive. She  _ knew  _ that. Ember had beaten her, and yet here she was, alive without Talon’s intervention. And someone had taken the time to write her a  _ letter. _

(Idiots.)

_ Faith,  _ the letter read.

_ In your fight with Ember and subsequent shooting, you were left with second and third degree burns, five broken ribs, and two punctured lungs. We made the decision to save your life rather than let you die and brought you to this safehouse on July 27th. We cleared out on August 1st, after having done everything we could to aid you in your recovery without sticking around for you to follow and/or kill us. At the current moment, you are in Southern Utah, and this safehouse has been wiped from our systems and slated for demolition by the state by August 15th. _

So they had covered their tracks well enough. It would be hard to track them down, especially considering how many days had passed since they had left. She didn’t have a phone on her, but the ink was set in the paper well enough to show that a few days had passed. They were in the wind. And not only had she failed her mission, but she had been  _ saved  _ by these rogues. Lilith would never let her live that down.

_ We all know better than to think that you will cease your search for us unless Talon gives you orders to, so we won’t bother asking. However, we now know your face, and we have beat you before. If you attack us again, it will be a fight that you’ll lose. That is a promise. It should also be known that this medical aid wasn’t done out of hope to draw you away from Talon, but out of courtesy from one Viper to another. If this incident repeats itself in any variation, we will not re-extend this courtesy, and it will end with you dead. Our advice would be to go back to Talon and tell them that you failed. _

_ During your hibernation, I was able to dig out the bullets and keep your both lungs intact. However, there were slight complications with your left. It took too long to reinflate and put pressure on your heart and other lung. By the time we left, it still wasn’t inflating all the way. Most people recover from pulmonary fibrosis without long term complications, but considering there are short term complications that were not monitored, I’m not making any promises. Sorry. _

Faith’s winced. She took a deep breath, feeling her chest expand, but the left side hurt at the movement. She knew that punctured lungs were hard to come back from without damage, even for a dragon, but lung scarring would complicate things for the rest of her life.

That was okay. She could deal. She had dealt with Lilith cutting her training short, with being bounced around by different Vipers between their missions while her teacher was off training a new, shiny protege, and she had done well despite it. She could deal with a bit of pain.

_ Attached is basic post-surgery wound care. It would be a shame if I wasted three days of my life and several hundred dollars on supplies only for you to die because you couldn’t follow instructions. This should be common sense, but I will repeat it again for both our sakes: You cannot fight us and hope to win without the cover story that you had last time and with a busted lung. The best thing for you to do is go back to Talon and focus on your recovery.  _

_ As long as you are in this safehouse: This house is supposed to be abandoned, so try to keep quiet. St. George has influence in this area. There’s food in the refrigerator, a few changes of clothes in the dresser, the shower works, and there are antibiotics/painkillers on the kitchen counter. Please take antibiotics once every twelve hours until the bottle is empty. And don’t take them on an empty stomach. _

_ Best of luck in your future, Faith. _

Faith ground her teeth hard. Talon would be furious with her if they knew that she had taken rouge help, willingly or not. She would be disgraced. These rogues had beaten her so thoroughly that her life might as well have ended in that warehouse. And what would Lilith say? She had lost against Ember Hill, her (new, shiny) failed student.

_ Dammit, dammit, dammit. _

The only way to put things back to normal would be to fix her mistake. She had to find the rogues, kill Cobalt, Wesley, and the soldier, and bring back Ember. She  _ had  _ to. They had just ruined her entire life, and they had the audacity to act like they  _ cared  _ about her while they did it.  _ “Best of luck in your future”,  _ who did they think they were? Faith balled up the paper and stood.

Her vision immediately went black.

~***~

_ It could be worse,  _ Faith reminded herself, staring up at the ceiling.  _ I could’ve lost a limb, or taken heart damage. They could’ve had to remove one of my lungs. Talon could’ve picked me up when I was still unconscious. This is a second chance to track them down before Talon calls me back. That way, I won’t fail the mission. _

Still, her situation put her at a disadvantage. No getting around that. She was laying down on the ground, and she was  _ still  _ out of breath. Her chest ached. And when she felt over her face, she could feel a waxy burn spanning from her forehead, around her eye, and to her cheek. She didn’t know what other damage was under her suit.

_ Okay. First things first— I need to change into different clothes. I then need to get food and water. Then figure out the date. I can stay here until the fourteenth at the latest. I couldn’t have been out for more than three days after they left, so that gives me eleven days at most to rest. That’s manageable. _

Faith rolled onto her hands and knees, then used the dresser to get to her feet. Her vision went blurry and greyscale, but she didn’t faint. She put the papers on top of the dresser— whoever had written up the post-surgery wound care was thorough, which solidified the fact that either Wes or Riley was a competent medic. That would be important to know. She would have to get them separated, and she couldn’t let either one run off to the other. Faith rooted through the dresser to try to find clothes that would cover the viper suit. She was in St. George territory, so she needed to either keep it covered or take it off. She had no such luck finding what she was looking for. All of the shirts were tank tops. 

They had probably planned it like that, too. Faith growled to herself and grabbed a change of clothes. She was going to bring Ember back, dead or alive.  _ Before  _ Talon found her and ordered her home.

Getting out of her suit was a struggle. She was used to the feeling of the suit around her, unwilling to separate from her skin, but it had never been so hard to take off. By the time she pulled on the obnoxiously pink crop top and jean shorts, it was tempting to go to sleep and leave the rest of her problems for the next day— others had warned her that medical hibernation was difficult to come out of, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for how strong that pull was. But Faith was better than that. The longer she stayed, the further away her targets got. She needed to get some food and start planning how to find them.

The safehouse was small and nearly silent, the only sounds coming from the electricity humming in the halls and her own stumbling gait. All of the windows were boarded up, but the lights still worked, casting a harsh glow on the room— wood floors, a kitchen in one corner, a couch alongside the wall, and a table in the center. She could see the bathroom door, as well as one other. No stairs.

Faith stumbled over to the refrigerator— if the rogues were going to be stupid enough to feed her, it was her right to take full advantage. She retrieved a carton of orange juice and some salmon before something on the counter caught her gaze.

A burner phone.

Faith let out a small breath and flicked it open. The battery was still good, thankfully. The date read August 3rd, which meant it had been two days since they had left. Six days since she was shot.

Faith swallowed and traced along her ribs, feeling a raised scar that spanned across her chest and hurt to the touch. She couldn’t find the bullet wounds, likely obscured from the surgical scar, but she could feel a puncture wound directly below her ribs, also precise and clean.

It didn’t make sense. She was a Viper, sent to bring back Ember and kill anyone who got in her way, namely the soldier and Wesley Higgins. They  _ knew  _ that. They should have left her to die.

_ Well, it was their mistake,  _ Faith thought firmly. She set down the phone, and with only a few seconds of hesitation, broke it in half.  _ And I’ll make sure that it’s the last mistake they make. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter and the chapter before this, I'd like to thank my friend the trauma doc and my partner the nursing student. They were the ones who said no, I could not remove Faith's left lung and have her able to continue her goal of multiple homicides. Which, first off, buzzkills, but also thanks for the advice. Writer's best friends, y'all.
> 
> Anyway, please toss a comment (or a kudos if the comment box is intimidating, I understand) to your writer. I thrive on positive attention.


	3. Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween/Samhain, everyone! And happy NaNo's eve to my fellow writers... godspeed to y'all, I'm not participating due to... straight-up not wanting to.
> 
> Anyway, I really loved writing this chapter and the subplot it introduces, and I also enjoyed editing it, so I'm excited to share.

“Faith’s phone is dead.”

Ember looked away from the window. Wes glared at his computer as Riley stopped stripping his pistol.

“You sure? You said that it would last another few days.”

“Yeah, it would. Either I did my math wrong, which I  _ never  _ do, or she’s up and knew that I’d be able to track it if it stayed on,” Wes said. He snorted. “Thirty dollars wasted.”

“Don’t be dramatic, we can afford it,” Riley said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing that can be done about it, now. She shouldn’t be able to track us, and we tapped into hotel security if she does. Turn the program off and focus on Griffin,” Riley said. He turned back to his current talk: stripping his gun near-methodically and laying out all of the piecesin front of him. He cleaned off all of the pieces individually, and then started to reassemble it. His face was sculpted into an emotionless, almost  _ calm  _ expression, hair tied back in a half-ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. 

He went through all of their weaponry every night before he went to bed— something about how it kept him focused. His nine millimeter browning hi-power, Ember’s glock 19, the spare glock that was supposed to be Wes’ but he never touched, a stun gun, pepper spray, and assortment of five different types of automatic knives. All checked and cleaned every night before they went to bed.

From the looks of it, he just wanted something to do with his hands. 

Ember’s eyes slid over to Wes, who was still on his computer, eyes bloodshot and tired. His arm was still heavily bandaged and braced, and he had gained a few bruises from Faith’s flailing that had yet to heal. Ember felt something sick and cold settle deep in her chest. 

Those three days looking after Faith, acting as Wes’ helper whenever Riley was busy, made her realize how out of her depth she really was. She knew how to fight, sure, but she didn’t know anything about survival. She didn’t know how to lose a Viper or root out a mole, like Riley did. She couldn’t hack and keep their location secure, like Wes. She was just  _ there, _ feeling lost and unable to pull her own weight in a situation where she couldn’t slow anyone down, because training was over and this was the rest of her life. Hell, she could barely kill anyone— Faith proved that.

“Weapons are functional. I’m going to go to bed,” Riley whispered softly. “Wake me if you find anything, or if… fucking Faith shows up. And  _ try  _ to get some sleep tonight, Wes. You’re running on caffeine and pure stress.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Wes muttered. Riley rolled to his feet and pulled lightly on Wes’ hair, which was met with a slap on the wrist with the functioning hand. Riley’s eyes met hers, and he gave her a stiff nod. Ember looked away.

He was distracted. He was tired.  _ Just  _ like her. Any weird feelings between them had to fall to the back burner until they could find Griffin and be sure his underground was safe. It didn’t mean that he had forgotten about  _ them.  _ Whatever  _ they  _ were.

It wasn’t even like  _ they  _ were anything. They had only been living in close quarters for two weeks, and most of those two weeks was fighting, running, and trying to figure out why  _ they  _ felt things that dragons weren’t supposed to feel. And if that wasn’t complicated enough, she had also felt things with Garret, who left the moment they stabilized Faith, because he claimed that he didn’t belong in the underground after everything that he had done. And it wasn’t like  _ that  _ hurt, because she had known and fallen in love with Garret from Crescent Beach, not Garret the dragonslayer. So it was okay.

Besides, she had bigger things to worry about than weird, inconvenient feelings. She a traitor to track down, and survival skills to learn, and a brother to kidnap and physically drag away from Talon. And burns that she had to keep from getting infected. Hopefully.

She missed Garret. Garret from Crescent Beach, Garret from St. George, both or neither, she missed him.

“I’m sorry about St. George.”

Ember coughed and looked up. Wes was staring at her, his computer closed and medkit open, brace placed next to him as he unwound the bandages from his arm.

“Sorry, what?”

“You heard me, and I’m not repeating myself. It sucks that you liked him before you knew who he was, and I’m sorry that you have to deal with him leaving with two minutes notice. But there’s not much room for romance when you’re on the run from a trillion-dollar, transnational organization, so it’s probably for the best.”

“Jeez, who broke  _ your  _ heart?” Ember snorted.

Wes rolled his eyes and looked back down at his arm, grimacing. It looked bad, even to her inexperienced eyes. She remembered when he had first treated the wound in the back of a moving car, how strips of skin hung from his arm, the dull pulse of blood from torn veins or arteries, and how he treated it all with a calm detachment that was uncannily unlike him. Now there wasn’t any blood, but the scabs and stitches made a gruesome patchwork with the bruises. He dabbed around the stitches with some sort of cleaning wipe, grimacing at the contact.

“Does it hurt?” Ember asked.

“Yep,” Wes said _.  _ “She broke my bloody arm. If it doesn’t hurt there are bigger problems to deal with.”

Ember sighed. She wished that she could’ve helped those days ago, when Faith was half-dead from the bullet wounds, or when she couldn’t breathe, or when Wes told them that he had done all he could safely do. She wished she had been able to stitch up Wes’ arm instead of watching him do it himself. She wished that she could do anything more than change her own bandages.

“So, is there a particular reason that you’re sticking around my room? I’m  _ not  _ sending a message to your brother, but if there’s something wrong with your burns—”

“Can you teach me?” The words were out of Ember’s mouth before she could stop herself. Wes went completely silent, eyebrows raised with shock. “The medic stuff. I… I don’t know anything about it. And when Faith was dying, and I had to help you, I couldn’t do anything more than hold a flashlight. I want to know how to actually… do… stuff.” Ember motioned to Wes’ arm.

“Stuff,” Wes repeated. Ember winced. He sounded incredibly unimpressed.

“Yeah. Stuff.”

Wes glared at her for a long moment, to the point that Ember considered admitting defeat and leaving for her own room. She and Wes were not  _ friends  _ in any sense of the term. But she didn’t want to go to her room, to watch TV and try not to let herself have nightmares. And she was nothing if not stubborn, so she waited.

“You need to get some sleep, Ember,” Wes said. Ember groaned. “Don’t think I don’t know that you aren’t sleeping. We need you at your best, not half-conscious.”

“Yeah. That’s why I want to— to learn  _ this.  _ I don’t want to feel helpless again, like I did with Faith. And I don’t want to… I don’t want my only asset to be killing,” Ember said. Wes twitched and looked down. “Please?”

Wes was silent. He kept glaring.

“I read parts of your file,” Wes said. “The stuff they sent to guardians. You’re an impatient student with a discipline record that could kill a tree.”

“Well, things are a bit different now,” Ember said.

“Really.”

“Yes.” Ember tried to put as much confidence into her voice as possible. Things  _ were  _ different. She wasn’t a kid, stranded with her brother in the desert, waiting for her life to start. She had killed. She had nearly died. She understood that this was  _ important.  _

And if she could do something to help, next time someone was bleeding out in front of her, maybe the nightmares would give her a break. She was getting sick of waking up to smell burnt flesh and iron.

Wes let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his good hand. “Okay, fine. I’ll take you through the first aid kit and show you a few things,  _ but— _ ” he paused, staring at her as if he expected her to stop paying attention. “—in return, you need to go to  _ sleep.  _ No watching TV until dawn or… I don’t know what sixteen-year-olds do.”

“You act like you’ve never been sixteen,” Ember said. “Don’t act like you didn’t do stupid things when your were my age.”

“When I was sixteen I was in an overglorified human trafficking ring,” he said flatly. Ember winced. “Don’t worry, I got over it. Pull up a seat.”

Wes took her through everything inside, told her what it was used for, how to store it, how to best keep it clean, how many times it could be used before it was thrown out, and how to throw it out safely. His voice was terse, but he didn’t move too quickly for her to understand. It was mind-numbing and made her fidgety in a way that reminded her a bit of her trainers in Nevada, before the summer where everything was turned on its head. The only exception was that this was actually important information, and… well, Wes was going at a pace that she could understand. He even slowed down, when she started to get lost.

One first aid kit took an hour. She listened, and he made her repeat the information and answer questions, and then he re-explained when she got the answers wrong. But after an hour, Wes gave a short nod.

“You know that this involves a lot of studying and  _ patience,  _ right?” he said. “And with my specific line of work, you’ll be working on people who you know and care about. There’s a reason Riley doesn’t know as much as I do, and it’s because his empathy doesn’t have an off switch like mine does. He can’t get past the fact that if he fucks up, some he cares about will  _ die. _ ”

Ember blinked, thinking over the reality of the situation. She thought about Riley bleeding out, or Garret, or  _ Dante,  _ and their lives being in her hands. She thought about the times she had dragged Dante into the infirmary and tried to imagine no infirmary, no doctors, just her and a brother who was bleeding. If she could handle that with the same apathy Wes seemed to adopt in the same situation. 

“This isn’t an easy thing to learn,” he said softly. “The only reason I know how to is because Riley and I don’t have another choice.”

Ember took a breath and nodded. “What happens when you get hurt, then?”

“Well, you saw what I did in Vegas. I either patch myself up or Riley patches me up enough for an underground doctor to get to me. We have six of them across the States. And I give him grief, but Riley isn’t completely incompetant. He’s gotten me out of a few situations where bloodloss got me too loopy to hold a needle.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

Wes snorted. “It is. Why do you think I never go willingly into combat? If I die and one of you are injured, guess who  _ also  _ dies?”

There was a silence. Ember thought about if she’d be able to do anything if it was her friend dying in front of her, but she also remembered her confused panic after she got shot, and how much worse it would be if no one had been able to help.

“I want to do this,” she said. “Even if that means reading through a bunch of boring textbooks.”

Wes nodded. It might’ve been Ember’s imagination, but he looked reluctantly impressed.

“Well, I will warn you, I’m told that I’m a bastard of a teacher.”

“Who told you that?”

“Riley, when I was trying to teach him coding. He was horrible at it,” he said. “I’m going to take you through stitching, injections, and IVs. Just so I can have an extra set of hands if I need them. Then you’re going through anatomy until I say you can stop, and  _ no complaining _ . Understood?”

Ember nodded. Wes pulled up a few videos— youtube had  _ everything,  _ including how to properly do stitches. Ember watched them as Wes went out into the hall. When he came back, he had a bottle of Redbull in hand.

“You done with those?” Wes asked. 

Ember nodded. He took his seat again and closed the laptop, dragging the first aid kit between them again.

“I actually learned most of what I know from a doctor that we helped jailbreak from Talon,” Wes said. “He taught me how to do stitches by slicing open my arm and telling me to stitch it up before I got blood on the carpet.” Ember scooted her chair away from Wes, suddenly  _ very  _ aware of how good he was with a scalpel. Wes smirked and held up his uninjured arm, which had a long, ragged scar across it. He would’ve had to stitch it with his non-dominant hand. “As you can tell, my first try wasn’t overly successful. But don’t worry. Riley nearly kicked his head in when he found out what happened, and I’d rather not be on the receiving end of that particular anger. All that you need to gain from this story is that you won’t actually know how to do stitches until you do it in practice. However it is… way too late for any practical lessons, and I’m not about to go slashing open my  _ own _ arm when I already have one wound that I’m desperately trying to keep clean. Do you think that you can get to sleep tonight?”

Ember furrowed her brow and drew her lips into a line. “Since when do you care?”

“ _ Hey.  _ If you faint and crack your head open or are too slow to dodge a bullet because you’re tired, it’s  _ me  _ you’re going back to for help,” Wes said. Ember rolled her eyes. “ _ And  _ it’s my job to take care of the kids in the underground. I haven’t forgotten that you’re one of those.”

Ember blinked, somewhat taken aback. That was the most heartfelt thing that Wes had ever said to her. Maybe he didn’t hate her as much as she thought he did.

“Thanks,” she managed.

“Don’t mention it,” Wes said. He closed the first aid kit. “But if you  _ can  _ sleep, I’d ask that you do, because I still have a traitor to track down and a Viper to keep off our backs, and I don’t like having hatchlings peering over my shoulder while I work. If you can’t sleep, go… pester Riley.”

Ember snorted. She supposed that Wes could only be heartfelt for a few seconds at a time, but it was better than having his constant annoyance directed at her back.

She entered her room without turning on the lights and collapsed onto her bed. Sleeping had been getting hard. Her dreams kept going back to Vegas. The sniper that she had killed; the sniper that Garret had looked at with fear and horror, because his cousin— his  _ partner,  _ Tristan St. Anthony— had been a sniper in St. George, and Ember would’ve killed him just as quickly either way. Faith’s blood staining her hands, her gurgling rasps getting fainter and fainter. Soldiers chasing her through a labyrinth of crates.

But that night, she was too tired to worry about dreams. She slipped into the black and was met with oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medic Ember Medic Ember Medic Ember


	4. Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it has not been a week. I, however, am a lesbian living in the USA who is not allowed to vote due to being 17, and have had a pretty-much nonstop anxiety attack since yesterday. So I decided that, for people in similar situations with similar amounts of fear in these times, I can provide some amount of reprieve and joy, even if it's only for 2,500 words. For those living in America, stay safe, stay strong, keep your friends and allies close. For those not in America... What's it like watching a train crash?
> 
> Anyway. Please enjoy. Regular updates will resume on the weekend.

Life was much easier back when Faith had Talon’s resources at her disposal. 

She spent three days in the safehouse, trying to regain her bearings. The pain in her chest became a dull, ever present ache deep in her chest, but she learned to push past the blurriness at the edge of her vision and the temptation to sit or lay down. She followed the post-wound care instructions, even though the thought of these rogues helping her set her teeth on edge. It was their mistake. She’d have to take advantage of that.

(She didn’t have any other advantages, after all.)

After three days, she decided that it was time to move out. She needed supplies, information, and transportation, none of which she would get in a building slated for demolition. She had made a list of everything that she’d need— new clothes that could cover her suit, a car, a fake ID to let her drive and possibly rent a motel room, and weaponry. She knew better than to think that she could take Cobalt in a fight on a  _ good  _ day, let alone in the state that they had left her in. She was Talon’s youngest Viper, and he was the leader of a rogue underground that had lasted longer than any other. That meant she had to take care of as many targets as possible from a longer range. 

Still had no idea how she was going to get Ember to come back willingly. She could probably threaten to hurt Dante, but she’d have to get Ember alone to do that. Cobalt would definitely call her bluff. 

The car was easy to get once she entered the central part of town. She was still amazed that some humans didn’t lock their cars— the average six-year-old could hotwire a car, if they knew what they were doing. It was a piece of trash, probably older than she was, but  _ still.  _ The clothes were also fairly easy, once she found a decent store. Back when she was a sleeper agent, she hadn’t made many friends, but the friends she  _ did  _ manage to snare taught her the fine art of pickpocketing and shoplifting. Back there, it had been a game. Now, her quick fingers and light touch could be the difference between a successful and a failed mission. She walked out of that store with a blue turtleneck, denim jacket, and dark jeans. It would be stiflingly hot for her Northern blood, but was better than being unable to wear her Viper gear. 

The guns and fake IDs, however, weren’t nearly as easy. She didn’t look any older than fifteen, and there weren’t any gun shows that she was aware of. Even if there were, she didn’t want to go anywhere near one. Viper or not, a teenage girl in a building full of white men set her on edge. She knew of a few contacts that Talon had that made fake IDs, but they weren’t in the area. (And they were  _ Talon’s  _ contacts. She couldn’t go back to Talon until she had succeeded.)

Well. She could drive without a license. She had done it plenty of times before. 

Faith visited the safehouse one more time. She cleared out everything in the car that had been left by whoever she stole it from, removed the license plates, and moved everything that she needed into it. The changes of clothes— no matter how annoying they were, she wasn’t about to leave spare cloth lying around. The painkillers and antibiotics, for obvious reasons. Food. The note that the rogues had left her. She didn’t quite know why it was important to her, and part of her seethed that she was still taking their advice on how to deal with the wound that they had left her with, but she didn’t want to leave it.

_ Best of luck in your future, Faith. _

What a joke. She was a Viper. No one cared for her, and she didn’t care for anyone, either. It wasn’t part of the job description. Vipers who cared about people had failed by default.

Faith put the car into drive and left the city, heading east, already formulating a plan on how to track the rogues down. It would be hard— she wasn’t about to lie to herself— but it could be done. Cobalt was good at what he did, but he also had a habit of crime, and their merry gang wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. It was possible.

(Was it?)

~***~

“Miss? The library is closing in five minutes. You can come back tomorrow.”

Faith ground her teeth, but managed to plaster a smile onto her face and stand from the computer. The librarian— a woman in her mid-fifties, smiling openly at her without a clue of how easily Faith could reach up and snap her neck— waited for her to close off.

“You’ve been visiting every day,” she noted.

“I have indeed,” Faith replied. She didn’t particularly like libraries, but it wasn’t like there was another place with convenient access to computers. And location wise, it could be worse. She was relatively certain that Cobalt had passed through here, since the people at the gas station told her about a dark-haired boy who cleared out an aisle worth of food and nearly everything that could pass for medical supplies. That meant she was on the right track. She just had to figure out where they were going.

(Talon’s most elite couldn’t track them down in twelve years. Who was she to try? What would she even do if she found them?)

(What happened if she returned to Talon as a failure?)

“You remind me of my niece, always on her computer,” she continued. Faith nodded politely. “What is it that you’re doing? Must be important.”

“Oh. It’s… um…” Faith gave a nervous smile, wondering how much this nice librarian could help her. She didn’t know how long they had stayed, but she doubted that they would’ve passed through a library.

_ Well, no luck on this front, so I might as well try. _

“I’m actually looking for my sister. She’s five foot six-ish, spiky orange hair, freckles everywhere. She left a few days ago on a roadtrip with her friends, and I haven’t heard from her since,” Faith said, keeping the nervous smile on her face that made people trust her. “Don’t suppose that  _ you  _ saw her, did you? She’d be with a… a Latin-American guy with shoulder-length black hair, a teenage boy who looks like a bodybuilder, and a guy with the most annoying British accent you can imagine.”

The librarian blinked, reproachful. “An interesting way to describe your friends. That sounds like your sister was part of something shady.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Faith grimaced and shouldered her backpack. “She just finished her senior year, and everyone else got back from University, and we live in the middle of nowhere, so they wanted to take a trip together. They’ve been planning to get out of town for months. I’m just worried because none of them are texting me back.” Faith blinked, an idea coming to her. She had been trying to track them down online, like an  _ idiot.  _ They had one of the most elite hackers in the world on their team. If they did something illegal, he could snuff out any news of it easily. She’d never be able to find them like that. But stopping a word-of-mouth rumor mill was much harder.

“Maybe… do you know where people stay when they’re passing through? Somewhere low-end, for cheapskates?”

“Cheapskates?” she asked. Suspiciously.

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith shrugged. “Really, I know what this sounds like, but they’re not shady. They just don’t always think things through. You know college students.”

Faith considered sitting back down again. She had only been working for six hours, and she was already exhausted. She rubbed at the incision on her ribs— it was going to leave a permanent scar. She was okay with that. It wasn’t what bothered her. What bothered her is that her chest still didn’t expand properly on the right side.

“Well, most people who pass through usually go to the Red Mountain Motel. I don’t know how much help it will be, but I hope that you’ll find your sister,” the woman said with a smile. Faith returned it. “Take care, miss… uh…”

“Ava,” Faith supplied, something in her stomach giving a pang from Mist’s alias. For all of the information the letter gave her, they hadn’t said whether or not Mist survived. (Not that it mattered. Not that she cared.)

The smile still hurt to maintain. “I’m Ava Hill.”

Faith exited the building, ending the conversation. She got into her car, which she had since stolen license plates for, and took a deep breath. The day was almost over. She just had to go to the  _ Red Mountain Motel,  _ wherever that was, figure out if anyone matching the rogues’ description had stayed there, figure out where they were going from there. That was two hours of work, max. It was only 8:00.

_ God,  _ she was exhausted. It would be so easy to curl up in the back seat and go to sleep.

_ It won’t be any better in the morning.  _ Faith reminded herself. She started driving.  _ Only time and work are going to make it better.  _

She had spent time in that library researching how to fix her lungs, as well as where her targets could be. They hadn’t told her exactly what happened, or what they had done, but she could guess. Pneumothorax from air or blood entering her chest cavity. An infection wouldn’t surprise her— probably the reason behind the antibiotics, and the reason she was always tired. To her surprise, the list that the rogues had written up didn’t have any errors that she could see. They weren’t trying to sabotage her recovery. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

_ Well. They’re idiots. It’s miracle that they’ve lived this long. _

(How the hell had they lived so long?)

Faith used the same cover story that she did at the library— her name was Ava Hill, she was looking for her older sister and her friends, and she thought that they may have passed through. The receptionist said that he hadn’t seen anyone matching that description, but directed her to another motel across town that was similar. 

It was 9:45, but Faith ground her teeth and continued onwards, ignoring the pain in her chest and the exhaustion set deep in her bones. The new motel was beaten and smelled strongly of nicotine, but Faith ignored it as she approached the desk.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said before the receptionist could open her mouth. “She might have passed through a few days ago. Orange hair, freckles, about five-foot-six? Accompanied by some other people?”

“What’s it to you?” the woman replied, her voice at an impressive monotone. 

Faith was not in the mood. She had already talked to  _ two  _ other humans, she was no closer to finding her mark, and the rogues were getting further and further away the longer she stayed in this godforsaken town. 

“She’s my sister. She’s missing,” Faith said. She didn’t try to look concerned or apologetic about it, either. “I have a hundred dollars that’s yours if you tell me if she passed through.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a bit young to be throwing money around like that?”

“I’m older than I look,” Faith said, smiling in a way that  _ didn’t  _ look sweet or unassuming. She wanted to sit down. Or lay down. Or set this woman on fire.

The woman sighed. “There was a redhead that passed through with some biker boy and another guy. They got two rooms for the night and took off in the morning. But it didn’t look like she was there against her will, from what I saw.”

“Yeah, because you’re super perceptive and care a lot about your job,” Faith said, handing over a bill that she had stolen from an ATM. “How long ago was that?” 

“ _ That,  _ miss, is private information,” the woman replied. Faith wondered if she could get away with slamming the human’s head into the desk. Instead, she pulled another hundred out of her wallet. It was only money. She could rob someone tomorrow.

“They left five days ago. Stayed for a total of three days, paying for another day at the beginning of each one. From what I understood, one of them was sick,” she said. Faith nodded, mulling the information over in her head. Well, Ember and taken a beating in their fight— set them  _ both  _ on fire, she remembered— and Cobalt had fought Mist, so he probably didn’t escape entirely unscathed. If one of their injuries was giving them trouble, that would certainly make Faith’s job easier.

“Are those rooms vacant?”

The woman turned to her computer. “One is. Though… this is private information.”

“I’m getting sick of that answer and low on money,” Faith said, even though she wasn’t. “You already got paid what’s probably two days worth of wages. Something that’s probably illegal, and definitely against motel policy.” She took a deep breath. “Look. She’s my sister. I’m worried.”

“Room 214. I’ll get you the key.” 

“Smart woman.”

Key in hand, Faith forced herself to climb the stairs and look through the room. It was musty, but it didn’t reek of nicotine smoke. That would be strange, since dragons weren’t particularly irritated by it, except that they were travelling with a human. The room had two double beds, which meant that it was  _ probably  _ Wesley and Cobalt’s room. 

_ Well. I’m now in a room. Not sure if there will be anything helpful in it, but at least I’m in a room.  _ Faith sat down on the desk chair and took a few moments to regain her breath. She could do this. She could track down the rogues, separate Ember from everyone, and bring her back to the organization. (How? How could anyone expect her to do what Lilith couldn’t?) She didn’t even need to kill Cobalt, since it was Mist’s job. And, from the sounds of it, one of the humans had left— probably the soldier, since Wesley Higgins had been working alongside Cobalt for twelve years. And, from the file that she read, Wesley Higgins wasn’t a physical threat. That made her job much easier.

She scanned the room, looking for anything that stuck out to her. The housekeepers would have already been in, which swept most evidence away, but there were sometimes things that they missed.

Like a notepad on the desk, and a pencil sitting next to it. There wasn’t anything on the notepad, but she could tell that there were indents on the paper, from someone writing something down and then ripping the paper off. She scribbled with the side of the pencil over the paper and prayed that it was something that she could use. 

They were numbers, scribbled in a near-illegible font:  _ 2412166144\.  _

Faith sat down on the bed, staring at the paper. They weren’t coordinates, or a date. A phone number, maybe? Or a social security number. But it was  _ something—  _ the handwriting was similar to the handwriting on her letter, and it was important enough to write down instead of simply try to remember.

Faith checked her watch. The time was 10:24; it would be early, by her standards back in Talon, plenty of time to at least  _ try  _ to think about what the numbers could mean. But she couldn’t find that she cared as she stuffed the paper into her bag. She had already paid for the room. It would be nice to sleep on a real bed.


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I think I lost my mind this week. It escaped out of my ear and went to a better world, where Nevada counted its votes and My Hero Academia didn't start trending in the middle of the election.
> 
> Also, I got exposed to someone with COVID 19, so guess who's going into quarantine for 2 weeks, 2 days before my birthday? That's right. It's me. So I guess I'm going to actually work on my original project and have a staring contest with part 7 of CDtG?

It took an embarrassingly long time for Faith to figure out what the numbers meant. 

If it was a phone number, then the area code would be somewhere in Texas, but it didn’t take too long for her to figure out that the number belonged to some school teacher who had a social media presence and three kids, so he likely wasn’t part of Cobalt’s underground or of any consequence to him. She ruled out a social security number just as quickly. After two more hours in the library, getting absolutely  _ nowhere _ , a headache from the depths of hell and a persistently growing dizzy spell forced to to take a break.

So there she was, laying on the library floor with her legs raised against the wall, re-reading the letter that they left her. Maybe she  _ should  _ just go back to Talon. She’d have to admit that she failed the mission, but she’d be able to get help and continue on with her life. She’d probably be able to find Mist, if she was still alive.

Except that this was her  _ first  _ mission without another Viper tailing her. She couldn’t fail.

(What would Lilith say? What would she do?)

Maybe she could call Dante. He was naive, but he’d understand her determination not to fail, maybe enough to help her without revealing to the organization where she was. 

Then again, he was also Ember’s brother. She couldn’t say where his loyalty to Talon ended and his loyalty to  _ her  _ began.

_ Best of luck in your future, Faith. _

“What does it  _ mean? _ ” Faith whispered to herself. She needed to throw the paper away. It wasn’t helping her. They were simply too soft-hearted to survive. But why would they end it like  _ that?  _ They had let her live out of courtesy, out of  _ pity.  _ That didn’t mean that they had to leave a letter explaining what happened. They didn’t need to write up two pages on how to care for her injury, or leave painkillers, or  _ anything.  _ They didn’t have to wish her well.

“Miss Hill? Are you alright?”

Faith put the papers down on her chest and looked up. The librarian was back, looking down at her, obviously concerned. Faith didn’t have it in her to change positions or think of a good lie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just dizzy. Thought this would help,” Faith murumered. The librarian didn’t look convinced. “Besides. This might give me a new perspective.”

“Still haven’t found your sister?”

“Well, I figured out where she  _ was…  _ don’t know where she  _ is. _ ”

The woman gave her a peculiar glance, and Faith toyed around with idea of sitting up properly to ease the awkward energy between the two of them. But then she sat down next to her. Faith blinked.

“I’m sure that if your sister knew that you were looking for her, she’d be thankful.” The woman put a hand on Faith’s shoulder. “You must love her a lot.”

_ Not exactly.  _ “Yeah. She’s my sister.”

“Are your parents looking for her, too?”

Faith clenched her jaw, thinking through a few excuses as to why her parents weren’t there. Finally, she settled for a lame, “Not the best parents.”

“So you’re out here all alone?” she asked, the concern in her voice sickeningly sweet. Faith shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “You must be exhausted! It’s unsafe for a child to be out in an unfamiliar city.”

“I have a car, and I have enough money for food and stuff, so it’s fine. No one’s bothered me so far,” Faith said. “And when I find my sister, then I won’t be alone.”

“That’s no way to spend your summer.”

“It’s fine.”

(Was it?) 

Faith wanted to convince herself that it would be okay, and that she had been through worse, but in all truth, she  _ hadn’t.  _ She was chasing after someone who was practically a ghost story, she didn’t have any resources or aid from Talon, and even though she was regaining lung function, it wasn’t fast enough. These were the worst days of her life. She had nearly  _ died.  _ She would’ve died, if it weren’t for these rogues and their soft-heartedness. (Soft-heartedness that was  _ weak,  _ that should’ve gotten them killed, why didn’t it get them killed?)

And she had a string of numbers that wasn’t leading to anything.

_ Ten digits… not an area code, not coordinates, not a phone number… but important enough to write down…  _

_ Who wrote it down? _

Faith narrowed her eyes and looked at the letter, again. The  _ 1  _ in August 1st was written the same way as the  _ 1  _ in the string of numbers— so sloppy that she could mistake it for a seven, if it weren’t for the fact that the  _ 7  _ had a slash mark in it. Which meant that either Cobalt or Wesley wrote it, since Ember obviously wasn’t the one to write up a post-op care sheet. And Cobalt would understand coordinates, he’d understand area codes and zip codes, but  _ Wesley  _ was a hacker, so he’d understand…

“Ms. Hill?”

“It’s an IP address,” Faith whispered. She sat up and stumbled to her feet as quickly as she could. “One of them wrote down an IP address. Don’t know exactly why, or what they’re looking for, but…” Faith sat down in front of the computer and tried to calm her breathing. She really needed to get back to Talon and get a set of lungs or something. “It was important enough to write down.”

“Ms. Hill—”

“They’re heading to Indiana.” Faith felt a heat spread over her face in excitement. She had a lead. For the first time in  _ days,  _ she had a lead, and if she knew where they were going, she could figure out  _ why,  _ and it would be easy to narrow down the location. Things were going  _ right. _

Faith stood. Her head gave a throb, and her chest froze. For a few moments, with her vision black and thoughts tangled in her head, she forgot how to breathe. She felt herself sway in place, her heart give a flutter of panic, and then her legs gave out. 

“Are you okay? Ms. Hill, can you hear me?”

Faith took a ragged breath and opened her eyes. The librarian had caught her, somehow, and put her back in the chair. She had her hands on Faith’s neck and forehead, probably checking for a fever.

“I’m okay,” Faith coughed. “I’m  _ fine.  _ That was— that’s—” That hadn’t happened in a few days 

“When was the last time you ate?”

Faith batted the woman’s hands away and took a breath. Her chest still ached. It  _ always  _ ached. “I— I have a blood pressure problem. That just… happens. Sometimes.” She took another, more controlled breath. They were in Indiana. She had a place to go. She placed her hands on the desk and pushed herself up slower, ignoring the woman’s hands on her back. 

“Thanks,” she whispered. A bit begrudgingly, but she had to play the part of nice younger sister who wasn’t tracking down Ember Hill in order to drag her back to Talon.

“You should sit down, I can get you some water.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just  _ fainted _ . When was the last time you ate?”

“Um…” Faith paused. “This morning.”

“It’s 4:00,” the woman said. Faith blinked. 

“Huh,” she finally said. Not her most eloquent, but it would do.

“You, Miss Hill, are running yourself dry. All alone in an unfamiliar town, living out of a car, that’s no way for a child to live, even if you  _ are  _ looking for your sister.”

“I should really get going.”

“You need to rest, Ms. Hill.”

Faith closed her eyes and collapsed back into her seat. She needed to move quickly— the information that she had was probably already old. But with the work she had been doing, living out of a car, unable to sleep for more than a few hours because of a Viper’s paranoia, she knew that she was running out of energy. She  _ did  _ need to rest. 

“How about this? After the library closes, you can come back to my house with my wife and I. You can get something decent to eat, take a shower, and sleep in a proper bed, and then you’ll be off in the morning.”

“Sounds vaguely what a serial killer would say,” Faith said. She couldn’t afford a night. She needed to move before she lost the trail. She still needed to figure out how to get her hands on a weapon other than the switchblade that she stole from a convenience store. Lilith wouldn’t let her rest until the mission was over, nor would any of her other trainers.

(The sound of a shower and a bed sounded amazing.)

“It sounds like your sister has joined a gang.”

Faith snorted. “Fair enough. Thank you for your offer… what would it cost me?”

The woman waved her off with a  _ tsk _ . “You’ve been on the road for days, Miss Hill, and you seem to be in need of a little kindness. It isn’t any inconvenience on my part.”

Faith furrowed her brow. Humans were… something else. It was rare for a dragon— or  _ anyone  _ within Talon— to do a favor without trying to get something out of it themselves. This woman was a stranger, who only knew her as Ava Hill, and she was offering to let a trained killer into her home. 

Cobalt and his crew had done the same thing, too. They had saved her life, despite knowing that it wouldn’t change Faith’s goal. 

_ Well, it’s my gain. And I need all the help I can get.  _

~***~

The house was small and unassuming, squeezed between two other similar houses. Its paint was peeling slightly, and ivy had left its imprint on the wall, but it also had a large flower garden and a clean porch, so Faith could assume that the house was just old, and not that the owners didn’t care about maintaining their home. She parked her car behind the woman’s and stepped out.

She needed to remember her part: she was Ava Hill, sixteen years old, looking for her sister, Ember Hill. Their parents, which were things that they had, were vaguely neglectful and hadn’t noticed Ember’s disappearing act. Any dizziness was due to low blood pressure. It wasn’t because she had tried to kill Ember Hill. She loved Ember Hill. She had played the part of a scared child being sent away to the dragonelle facilities for her failure, she could play the part of a concerned younger sister.

Although, it had been strange playing that role in Vegas. Faith the failure. Faith the coward. Faith, who they had still welcomed into their lives, who they promised to protect despite her obvious shortcomings. She knew they would be softhearted, but she didn’t think that it would be that  _ easy.  _ She hadn’t expected them to give her comfort. It had been startling. 

_ Much like this turn of events. _

“Laticia, I’m home. I brought that girl from the library I told you about, too,” the woman said as they entered the hallway. Faith pulled her jean jacket closer around her and tried to look smaller than she was— not too hard, since her human form didn’t clear five-foot-six. The hall had a few doors on one side and a staircase on the other. She could see that it opened up to another room at the end, and from the sound of it, that was where Laticia was. 

She appeared down the hall a moment later and walked up to them, kissing the librarian on the cheek. She had curly hair tied back in a ponytail, sandy-brown skin sprayed with freckles.

“Welcome home, love,” she said and turned to Faith, extending a hand. Faith shook it. “You must be Miss Ava. My Jenny has told me about your stay at the library. You’ve made quite an impression.”

“Oh. Well, I hope I can live up to the stories, I guess. Thank you so much for giving me a place to stay for the night. It’s so kind of you, and for someone who you barely know.” Faith gave an awkward laugh at the end of the sentence and pulled at her hair.

“It’s no trouble. Dinner will be ready soon, please feel free to take off your jacket and sit down,” Laticia said. “Jen, could you help me with the dishwasher? It disconnected from the plumbing again.”

Faith pulled her jacket closer around her as Laticia and Jenny left her, debating whether or not to actually take it off. It was stiflingly hot, and it would probably be considered rude not to, but this jacket had the stiletto blade tucked inside the pocket, and she liked to have a weapon within arm's reach. 

But she wasn’t in danger. These women didn’t know what she was or what she had done. They were two genuinely good people. And for the night, Faith didn’t  _ need  _ a weapon. She didn’t have to be Faith the Viper, Faith the assassin. She could be Ava Hill, the normal teenage human, off looking for her sister. Faith took off her jacket and put it on the hanger before she wandered into the dining room.

Dinner passed pleasantly. The food was better than anything that Faith had eaten for the past few days, even if it was spicy enough to make her eyes water. She listened to Laticia and Jenny talk, asking the occasional question even though she didn’t need to know the answer, and answering a few even though it was straight lies. She learned that they had met in college fifteen years ago, while Jenny was working on her library science degree and Laticia her biochemistry major. They had gotten married the moment it was legal at the courthouse, and then had a proper ceremony a few weeks later. They never looked into getting kids, but they had a canary named Icarus and a small saltwater aquarium. They were happy, in love, and the most normal people Faith had ever met. It was like she had stepped out of her skin and into a completely different life.

(And the worst part was, for a moment, she wanted to shed her skin and embrace it.)

(She pushed the thought down. It was traitorous and weak.)

Faith constructed her own story for them, as well. She talked about her older sister, her plans to major in geology once she got into college. Ember was working on a Political Science degree— Ember Hill, in this recount of events, had similar interests to Dante Hill— but Ava had never quite understood that field. She was proud of her sister, obviously, but also knew that Ember was a risk taker and was never quite content to sit still and stay in place. 

“I’m sure that you’ll find her, with your determination,” Jenny said.

“I know I will,” Faith replied. “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

“I wish that we could do more to help you.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Faith reassured. It was mostly reflex, but the fact of the matter was that Faith was still unsure this couple was extending aid to someone they didn’t know, and who couldn’t pay them back. Hell, she didn’t even help them with the dishwasher.

_ Is the entire world this softhearted? _

Obviously not. Faith knew Talon’s world, where the softhearted didn’t survive past their assimilation. She was just lucky in finding a couple that could take her in, thinking that she was some charity case. Just like she was lucky that Cobalt had let her live that night in the warehouse.

Faith twitched. Of  _ all  _ the ways to live through that, it had to put her in debt to Cobalt.

(It was better than being dead, though. She had to admit that.)

“Could you help me with the dishes, Miss Ava?” Laticia asked as she collected the plates. Faith shrugged and stood. Her vision didn’t go fuzzy and her heartrate didn’t pick up, so she collected the rest of the plates and followed Laticia into the kitchen. She had usually gotten herself stuck on dish duty during her assimilation by her guardians, but she didn’t mind it much. As soft hearted as these humans were, they provided nice company.

“You’ve had quite an impact on my Jenny. At this rate, I’m half expecting her to talk about adopting,” Laticia said.

“Well, I’m good with my current family, but I’m sure that there are plenty of kids who would jump at the opportunity to have two moms.”

“You’re a sweet kid.”

Faith managed not to snort. She wasn’t many things. Vipers weren’t allowed to be many things.  _ Sweet _ wasn’t a trait that suited her.

“You don’t talk much abut your parents,” Laticia noted.

Faith shrugged. “I don’t find much use in parents.” That was a truth— maybe the only one she had told to these women. She never wondered about who her parents were, or any half-siblings scattered about the organization. Her guardians during assimilation were there to keep her in line, her teachers at the estate in the Rockies were there to teach her how to pass as human, and Lilith and the other Vipers was there to train her into a perfect assassin. Mist… Mist had been nice in Vegas, she could admit that, and it had been fun to pretend to be friends, but both of them knew that the mission came first. It had never bothered her.

But… Faith could see the appeal of this life, as softhearted as it was. She could hear a canary’s song in the room over, sweet and trilling, and Jenny talking softly to the fish. It was simple and warm. Loved.

Faith shook herself.  _ Loved.  _ She knew herself better than to think that she could put any stake in love. That wasn’t for her, and it never would be.

“Besides, I have Ember. That’s more than enough for me.”

_ It will be. Once I have Ember, I can go back to Talon with my status restored. I can’t afford to fail. _

“Keep your sister close, Ava.”

“It’s what I’m trying to do.”

The rest of the night passed quietly— Jenny and Laticia introduced her properly to Icarus, who  _ hated  _ her. Jenny reassured her that Icarus didn’t like many people, but Faith suspected that birds could sense other, more dangerous things with wings, human disguise or not. But the fish didn’t mind her existence, so she spent most of the night watching them swim around in their tank, their scales glinted in the light. It was 10:30 when Faith’s exhaustion caught up to her and Jenny showed her to the guest room. 

In the dark, where neither Talon, rogues, nor humans could see her, Faith closed her eyes and acknowledged that this evening had been… nice. These women had been nice. It had been worth the potential waste of time.

But it wasn’t her life. Those two facts could coexist.

The next morning, Faith left before dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to aid me in my pursuit of the sweet sweet dopamine, please consider leaving a review or a kudos!


	6. Indecision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am COVID free!

Never before had Faith seen a land so…  _ flat. _

She had grown up in a Talon estate halfway up the face of a mountain, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming. She had survived six months of assimilation and training in a small town in Oregon. She had completed the rest of her training in an outpost in West Virginia, travelling only when they were doing field training.  _ Never  _ had she been in the Midwest.

Indiana was a mix of cornfields, soybean fields, and the occasional town or city. Overall, a fairly boring place to drive through. She ditched her car and took a bus to the IP address: a small city near the Kentucky-Indiana border that had way too many traffic cameras for a rogue to be comfortable in. Or for Faith to be comfortable in, for that matter. She had done her research about Former-Agent Cobalt and Wesley Higgins, and knew that they probably hijacked the already-present security to detect their enemies. Now, Faith was one of those.

She didn’t need any superior to tell her that her chances of completing this mission were low. She already knew that. 

(Lilith would expect her to keep going.)

She took a deep breath and slouched further in her bus seat. They were  _ somewhere  _ in this city. Or, at least, there was something important enough in this city for them to write down the IP address.

Not for the first time, Faith considered calling someone in Talon. Even the most experienced Vipers had resources at their disposal when tracking down their targets. No one could expect her to track down  _ Cobalt  _ of all rogues without help. 

But she had already failed once. And, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she was afraid that she’d be called back. This was her first assignment that didn’t involve an older Viper looking after her. Lilith would never look at her the same way again if she failed her  _ first  _ assignment. So she’d stay, she’d bring Ember back to the organization dead or alive, and she’d be welcomed back as Lilith’s true prodigy.

Still. It would be helpful to have someone watching her back. Or at least someone to give her council. Or… someone to complain to would be nice. 

For a split second, she wondered what would happen if she called Jenny or Laticia out of the blue to gripe about her problems, even if she knew it was impossible. They had probably already forgotten her name.

First business to attend to: she stole a hotel room. The place needed more cameras. And better locks on their windows.

_ Their loss, my gain. _

It could also stand to clean its sheets more often. Faith slept on the floor.

Second, she needed to figure out either where they were staying or where they  _ had been _ staying. Third, she needed a plan over how to bring Ember back, preferably with minimal injury. Dante had ordered  _ no injury,  _ but that wouldn’t be possible, and he was a Chameleon who had never had to get his hands dirty. (He was a  _ child,  _ who had let him command the Vegas operation?) She could try for not dead, but she wasn’t about to make any promises. She already had to do that with a busted lung that  _ still  _ didn’t quite function. No need to make it more difficult.

If she had just let Ember come back without killing the soldier of St. George, she’d have successfully completed her first mission. Damn her pride.

Second step. She just had to focus on that. By the time she had found their last haunt, they had already left. She had to find a faster method if she could even  _ hope  _ to catch them. It didn’t take much work at the local library— she was spending  _ way  _ too much time at these places— to track down all of the low-end motels that accepted cash. It took the rest of the day and way too many bribes to find they weren’t in any of those motels, and never had been. Either that, or they had paid more for silence.

She spent another night at a different motel. Also broken into. Also on the floor.

_ What would Lilith do? _

Something smart. Something that was just enough to get her more than her goal, yet not enough to get burned. Faith could have gotten Ember in custody and shot the soldier herself. Faith had killed plenty of soldiers at Lilith’s side.

She had to figure out her resources. she had… the local library. She had an ability to break into most places. She had Mist’s personal number. She had Dante’s professional number. She had Lilith’s personal number. Out of those three resources, Mist was the least likely to turn her into Talon, Dante was the most likely to be willing to help bring Ember back, and Lilith was the most likely to be able to tell her what to do.

She didn’t have a phone.

_ Damn. _

She ended up listening to the local radio for most of the night in hopes that Ember would do something weird enough to make it to local news. She didn’t have high hopes— Ember was surrounded by professionals, after all— but Lilith had caught quite a few targets by listening. Everyone made a mistake eventually.

It was because of that reason that, at 8:00 in the morning, she heard that there had been a theft of IV-administered antibiotics from a local veterinary practice.

She didn’t know whether to think anything of it. There were plenty of people who needed medications, and veterinary buildings were easier to steal from than hospitals. But she also knew that when drugs went missing from medical buildings, they were either opioids or sedatives. She also knew that there were easier ways to get antibiotics if one was okay with having your name in the hospital databases. And Ember  _ had  _ set herself on fire, so if things got infected, they’d need to treat the wound before it devolved into sepsis.

Faith gave a low groan. She was grasping at straws.

She still drove to the local library, found the address of the practice, and went to check it out. Even with the heightened suspicion and a chest that refused to cooperate, it was easy to break into. She supposed that no one expected anyone to break in during the day.

The back rooms were eerily similar to a hospital, with the fluorescent lights and linoleum floors. She snuck down the halls, avoiding vets and visitors as she needed, and found the security room. It was dingy. Inefficient.

She wasn’t an accomplished hacker, but that didn’t mean she was incompetent. Every Viper gained a unique skill set and was expected to pass it to their students. Stealth, she knew, taught her students Mandarin and how to shift effectively mid-combat, making her student’s fighting style unpredictable to soldiers and dragons alike. Lilith taught her how to set ambush traps that would kill someone before they knew they were in danger and how to hack into a computer, as long as she had the physical computer. It took her a few minutes, but she eventually found the shipping and security files.

Everything was perfect. 

No one was caught by the security cameras around the building. There were no glitches in the footage to imply tampering. If it weren’t for the amount missing antibiotics— checking the log, nearly the entire inventory disappeared overnight, along with some low-grade painkillers and sutures— she doubted anyone would think it was stolen. Which meant that whoever had stolen this was skilled.

Whoever had stolen this probably had a hacker on their side.

Faith checked the clock. It was nearing mid-afternoon. Her chest hurt, her head hurt, and she was moving so much slower than usual, but she still had a few hours left in her. This break in was the closest thing she had to a lead. She could check the hotels close to the vet’s clinic that she hadn’t already hit and do it more thoroughly.

It was going to be a long few hours.

~***~

They weren’t staying in a low-end motel. They were staying in a goddamn  _ Holiday Inn. _

It took most of the evening to figure that out, because they had bribed the clerk not to tell anyone, and they weren’t on the first floor, but Faith had her ways. Breaking into the security room of the adjacent building wasn’t nearly as easy as the vet’s practice— she almost felt bad for the security guard that now had several months of physical therapy ahead of him, assuming he could get out of the janitor’s closet— but when she did, all it took was plugging in a few algorithms until she found footage of Cobalt exiting the hotel at midnight the previous night. Which meant he was  _ somewhere  _ in there. She had no idea which room, but she knew the building.

It was also 11:30. She was about ready to fall over. She decided to actually book a room at Holiday Inn and sleep in a bed with clean sheets. It was a restless night, but when she woke up, it was in a large bed and a heated room, with a plastic cup of water beside her.

She got a grand total of eight hours of sleep that night, which was the first time in a while that she hadn’t underslept or overslept. And although she used to function on five to six, she didn’t regret the time lost. After all, it was a whole lot easier to find four people in a single hotel complex than it was to find them somewhere in the United States.

Lilith would be proud.

(She hoped.)

It took her approximately three seconds of thinking before she decided that trying to hack into the hotel’s cameras would be an exceptionally horrible idea. She had read Wesley Higgins' file— what existed of it, anyway— and despite being a human, he would destroy her on that front. No doubt he had control of the entire system, which made it hard enough to walk around without worrying about getting shot. Keeping her hair in her face wasn’t exactly a disguise.

However, a cleaning lady’s uniform  _ was. _

The employees-only area, Faith decided, was way too easy to get into. Even if she hadn’t been able to swipe a card from a passing busboy, there were vents running from the public to the private area, and she highly doubted they had any security in the heating vents. Finding a storage closet with uniforms and cleaning carts was slightly harder, but mostly just time consuming. 

And finding which room they would be in…

Faith was not looking forward to the day ahead of her. And possibly the night, as well. 

She skipped the first floor; she had done a basic sweep the day before, and it would be too easy to break into for someone as paranoid as Cobalt. The second floor took two hours to clear by listening at the door for the occupied rooms and breaking in and searching the unoccupied ones. She found plenty of interesting things, including a golden necklace with an opal pendant that Faith immediately pocketed, but nothing to show that this would be the rogue’s room.

She doubted that they’d all leave the room at the same time, anyway.

“Are you new here?”

Faith started and turned around. There was another housekeeper behind her, looking bemused at Faith’s existence. A few years older than her, with straight brown hair and an acne-scarred face. Her name tag read  _ Bailey Jane. _

“You look lost,” she continued. “I’m supposed to be covering this floor.”

“You are?” Faith said with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I must’ve read my schedule wrong. I’ll get out of your way.”

She turned back towards the staff elevator, keeping her shoulders hunched and unassuming. She wasn’t done with the third floor— only just started, really— but considering that she didn’t have a schedule, or any forged proof of employment, she didn’t want to be confrontational. She could come back later. 

Bailey Jane caught her wrist in her hand. Faith managed to fight the reflex to twist out of the way and attack, but it was close, and she didn’t repress the way her muscles coiled. She didn’t like people  _ touching  _ her, let alone dirty-fingered humans who couldn’t even imagine how close they were to dying before they hit the floor.

“You look sick,” she said. “A bit pale… are you okay?”

Her lungs had gotten  _ weeks  _ to heal. That was plenty of time, in her opinion. But she also knew that there were circles under her eyes, and her hair was more frizz than curl, and her skin was practically translucent. And humans, apparently, cared about other humans’ lives and health. Just like the rogues.  _ Idiots. _

(Idiots that didn’t leave her to die.)

“I’m just naturally pale,” Faith shrugged. 

“Okay. Take care of yourself… uh… where’s your nametag?”

Faith’s eyes widened, like she was unaware that she didn’t have a nametag. “Wow, I must be  _ really  _ scatterbrained today… please don’t tell our boss.”

Bailey Jane snorted and grinned. “No one tells him shit. Your secret’s safe with me.”

The complete, casual disregard for authority managed to draw a chuckle out of Faith, which made her have to resist the urge to slap a hand over her mouth. She was a  _ Viper.  _ Vipers got amusement from watching their prey run, not from cheeky blue-collar workers. She gave a hasty goodbye and hurried to the staff elevator, casting all thoughts of Bailey Jane from her mind. She didn’t even remember the girl’s name.

(She did.)

The fourth floor was clear. As was the fifth. The sixth had a shiny watch that  _ really  _ should’ve been kept on the owner’s wrist or in the safe, and a room with a  _ gun  _ in it. She searched that room thoroughly, because the rogues would have weapons near and might’ve left if they needed supplies and didn’t want to leave anyone alone. She found the ammunition and silencer for the pistol and pocketed both. She also found a pound of cocaine.

So there was a drug deal going on. That was disappointing.

The sun had slipped beneath the horizon by the time Faith started on the seventh floor and admitted that she might have to do the exact same thing tomorrow. Clearing rooms individually was tedious. If there weren’t an elite hacker with paranoia nearby, it would be all-too easy to get into the camera feed, which was frustrating beyond belief.

Once she found Ember and dragged her back to Talon, she was going to put some real work into that particular skill. 

She needed to clear the seventh floor. Then she’d take a nap, return during the night, and use the vents to scout rooms like a normal Viper. Except that any rogue who had lived for twelve years  _ definitely  _ had the vents secured one way or another. 

So she’d keep pretending to be a cleaning lady. Great.

Faith sighed at room 718, marked with a  _ do not disturb  _ sign, and checked the area for any suspicious cameras. There were none. She put the cleaning cart against the wall and leaned somewhat casually against the door. There was no sound of a droning TV, and people were definitely moving around in there, talking in low voices. She closed her eyes to block out any distractions and strained her ears to the best of her ability. 

“ _ Didn’t Riley expressly forbid you from doing this?” _

Faith froze. It had been a few weeks, but she had committed Ember’s voice to memory. Her target was on the other side of a door that she had a key card for, and it sounded like Riley was in the room. 

A warm giddiness rose up in her. She was so close. All she had to do was open the door, take down Wes, and incapacitate Ember. 

And manage to get her to a secure location without getting the police called on her.

She hadn’t thought that far. Rookie mistake.

(She still was a rookie.)

_ “He left me alone with my laptop, so really, he did this to himself. And I want to track down the lying murderous weasel and stab him in the throat.” _

_ “Wow. Descriptive. Do you plan out your murders?” _

_ “Sometimes. With this particular maggot in human skin, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Since before Vegas, actually. Never liked the bastard.” _

_ “You’ve mentioned.” _

_ “I have! And I stand by it! Granted, I thought his version of stabbing us in the back would be less destructive, but it was only a matter of time before he did something like this.” _

_ “Really?” _

_ “You never had to be near him for extended periods of time. The way he talked about our hatchlings… like they were business assets, or something else you could move and trade.”  _ There was a slight pause, and when Wes poke again, Faith could barely hear him.  _ “I don’t think Riley recognized that kind of talk, but it’s how dragons talked about me back in Talon, so I could recognize it.” _

Interesting. Faith had heard of Griffin, how he had been feeding both Talon and St. George information as it suited him. It had been helpful in setting up Riley back in Vegas, but it seemed that he was growing as a hindrance to every organization. It would be fitting for his throat to be slit by an angry hacker that he’d screwed over.

If the hacker was going to live through Faith. Which he probably wouldn’t. She could kill him, shoot out Ember’s leg, close the distance to knock her out. Stuff her in the cleaning cart. Secure her, call Lilith. Done and over in thirty minutes.

_ “I’m thinking we go to Kentucky after this. That’s where he was born, back when he was still Abraham Jacobson. He might have a few remaining contacts from that part of his life. It’ll at least give us something to do while I crack his military file.” _

_ “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”  _ Ember asked.  _ “Or at least teaching me things? Teacher?” _

_ “I’m not teaching you anything until you finish watching the crash courses and stop messing up the definitions of Anatomy and Physiology.” _

So Wes was the underground’s medic. Taking him out would be  _ very  _ beneficial. Faith would be completely forgiven for her initial mistakes.

_ “Anatomy starts with an A, physiology starts with a P, and either way, you’re running a fever.” _

There was a very,  _ very  _ long pause. Then:

_ “I dislike you. You know that, right?” _

_ “Riley told me to make sure you’re asleep by the time he gets back. He gave me permission to tranquilize you if you refused,”  _ So Riley really wasn’t here. This was a perfect time.  _ “He’ll be disappointed in both of us if you don’t go to bed.” _

_ “I live to disappoint Riley.”  _ Wes snarked.  _ “Ow! Bloody Viper! Get out of my room, or I’ll tell him exactly how much sleep  _ **_you’re_ ** _ getting!” _

There was another pause. Faith relaxed her muscles, slowly reaching for her weapons. In and out, under two minutes. 

_ “Riley’s worried about you, _ ” Ember said.  _ “Faith really did a number on you, and you said bite wounds are tricky. I mean, fuck, you just talked me through sepsis and septic shock, and you expect me  _ not  _ to be worried?” _

_ “I really don’t, because we don’t actually care about each other.” _

_ “Riley cares, though. For his sake, at least, can you take it easy?” _

Faith froze.

Somehow, despite listening to the entire conversation, Faith had missed the fact that Wesley Higgins was injured. That he had a wound that was  _ infected.  _ Septic, even. A wound that, apparently, he had gotten from Faith, even though she hadn’t attacked Wesley  _ once,  _ which meant she had bitten him while he had been operating on her, because he was the underground’s medic.

Which made her entire brain grind to a standstill, because she had injured one of her enemies while they were trying to save her life, and they still hadn’t let her die. And that made  _ no sense. _

Were they really that idiotic?

(Idiots that had lived for twelve years longer than logic said they should have.)

(Idiots that were the reason she was still alive.)

They were talking, still, and the conversation had shifted to about  _ her,  _ about Vipers, and—

_ “It really is a shame, about Faith. I’ve met Viper trainees around her age. We tend to steer clear of them, but it’s always a lucky win when we can get them out.”  _ Pause.  _ “From what you said about your fight, she’s not going to last long.” _

What?

_ “What?” _

_ “I’ve met a few Viper trainees. Most of them go unhinged and get themselves killed when we get them out, and according to the statistics, the ones who stay in Talon don’t do much better. Not many make it to graduation. Faith probably shouldn’t have. You definitely wouldn’t have.” _

There was a pause. Faith clenched her jaw. She wasn’t crazy. She deserved her place as a Viper, she had  _ earned  _ it, she was Lilith’s only student in a decade (other than Ember), and she was strong enough that she didn’t run away or break down the first time Lilith tied a man to a chair and gave her a gun. She could  _ feel  _ this human’s pity from the other side of the door, and she didn’t want it. She didn’t  _ need  _ it.

_ “That’s... sad.”  _ Ember said.

_ “Yeah. It’s horrible, really, and it’s even worse that Talon gives up on them if they break,”  _ Wes agreed. He gave a snort.  _ “They do the same thing to the humans they buy. It doesn’t actually matter if you’re a human or a dragon, in the end, they’ll get rid of anyone the moment they’re not useful. I was one of the lucky ones, if you can believe it.” _

His voice was dark and bitter, and for some reason, it washed all of the anger out of Faith. Those weren’t the words of someone who thought she was out of her mind. Those were the words of someone who had faced something too similar for comfort.

Irrationally, she wanted to open the door and ask Wes what his insanity looked like, and how he managed to hide it enough to slip Talon’s notice.

(How he came back from it.)

Faith tried to relax again and grab her gun, ready to do what she needed. The metal felt cool and familiar in her grasp, and she knew how to use this specific pistol, but—

(Vipers couldn’t hesitate.)

But she had hurt them and they were still talking about her with compassion that she hadn’t known (remembered) existed until she met that stupid librarian. And that was weak, but they were still alive after  _ twelve years,  _ and they saved her life, and that meant something.

It wasn’t supposed to. Not to a Viper.

(It did).

Faith set the gun back down. Her head hurt, and Ember and Wesley were still talking, and it would be wrong to kill someone who was recovering from an injury he had gotten while saving her life—

It wasn’t  _ wrong  _ to kill. Wrong and right were for humans, not dragons, not  _ Vipers— _

(But she was grateful not to be buried in one of Talon’s unmarked graves right now.)

She wasn’t hesitating. She was just… curious, how these rogues managed to live so long. They were strange, even alient, and she didn’t understand them. And she wasn’t a robot who cared about nothing but her orders. She could be curious. That was allowed. And she didn’t have to kill them tonight. That was also allowed.

Faith took a breath and straightened, ignoring the continuing conversation. She didn’t want to hear anymore. Ember, Wesley, Cobalt… they were all phenomenons. How they were so soft, but somehow still survived in a world that wanted them dead. How Ember could have Lilith’s training inside her and still decide to turn her back on it. How she could kneel beside a dying Viper and promise to help her. 

Faith pushed the cleaning cart in the staff elevator before she abandoned it. She paid for another night and collapsed into her room, thinking through everything she had heard, and trying to ignore the twisting anxiety in her gut.

It was fine. She could kill them tomorrow.

~***~

They were gone by the next day.

She listened by their door for thirty minutes before deciding it was safe to enter. Cleaning people hadn’t come in, yet, so there was still evidence to be collected. She didn’t have much hope, though. They were too skilled to leave behind an obvious trail. Just soiled bandages in the trash, and a horrible doodle of the arm, its parts labelled neatly in handwriting she didn’t recgonize. 

Which meant that she was back at square one, because she had found these rogues too  _ interesting.  _ She should’ve known better. It didn’t matter what they had done for her, or if she thought something was right or wrong, or if they were  _ interesting.  _ They were her targets, and she had a mission to complete. Lilith trained her better than to freeze up like that.

One of the bones of the arm was scribbled out, marked with  _ Ulna  _ and a frowny face.

She smirked in spite of herself, remembering the conversation she had listened in on. A Viper, learning how to heal. A waste of talent.

(Was it?)


	7. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the deal: I had to delete a chapter because it was all filler and didn't add any character development. That being said, there is a chapter down the line that's 6k+ words long and probably needs to be longer, so I might split it into two parts. I don't know. So, for now, the story has been reduced to 19 chapters.

Faith didn’t stay at Holiday Inn. She had stolen too much for someone  _ not  _ to be angry with her, and wasn’t about to give the gun  _ back.  _ If they wanted to keep it so bad, they should’ve secured their hotel room properly. Her needs were greater than theirs.

Still. She didn’t want to get tied up in any crime rings just because she stole one of their weapons.

She took a bus out of town, her new gun wrapped in some clothes and stuffed in a duffel bag, and the new necklace treated similarly. She got out at the largest city in the route and transferred to another bus, for lack of anywhere better to go, tracing the route vaguely south. At least busses gave her shelter and a place to think.

Last night was a fluke. A mistake. Faith thought that hesitation had been trained out of her system— she had killed plenty of times in training and during supervised missions— but Lilith had warned her that it could happen. That it didn’t happen to her, anymore, but it was more common for young Vipers. But Faith was  _ Lilith’s student.  _ She was trained by the best of the best. She was supposed to be  _ better  _ than that.

(Lilith had cut her training short by three months so she could train Ember Hill. Faith hadn’t seen her once in that time.)

And, if Faith thought about it, she  _ wasn’t  _ at square one. They were tracking down Griffin, aka Abraham Jacobson. Wesley Higgins said they should go to Kentucky. That was a much larger place to search than a hotel, but she had tracked them to that hotel. She could find information on Jacobson, find his contacts from pre-Talon, and wait for them to show up. 

Then it would be a matter of taking on a paranoid basilisk who knew her face.

Faith groaned and allowed herself about thirty seconds to wallow in self-pity.

She needed to find Griffin. Abraham.  _ Whichever.  _ She knew that Griffin was slippery, that he was playing every side of the board he could and running out of options. She knew that Talon was trying to close in on him. But she didn’t have his file, like Wes and Riley undoubtedly did. She didn’t know any of his contacts. With the resources she had, there was no way to find him before they rogues did.

On one of her stops, she bought a phone. She didn’t want to admit for what, but she was tempted to admit, at least a  _ little,  _ that she was in over her head. Countless Vipers,  _ experienced  _ Vipers with every resource available, had failed to track down these particular rogues, let alone kill them. Their paranoia would be called over the top, except that it had tripped up several Vipers. Not to mention that everyone in their little group knew how to fight. Even Wesley Higgins, their medic and hacker, was said to have taken out several people who were supposed to infiltrate the underground. Not only that, they were all skilled in turning young dragons against Talon. Faith’s mission was set up to fail.

But she was  _ Lilith’s.  _ She couldn’t fail. She wasn’t allowed to.

(Three months. She hadn’t heard from Lilith in three months.)

Griffin was still connected to Talon, and he was probably much worse at hiding compared to Cobalt and Wesley. Faith could call and ask for information. She wasn’t old enough to have many contacts, but she knew Dante’s number, and  _ he  _ had contacts. But she didn’t know his stance on her. He still loved his sister more than he had any right to. She could call Lilith, but Lilith might tell her to return, like she was a reckless child (she’d be so disappointed). She could call Mist Anderson. Mist had seemed to like her, even when they didn’t have to pretend to be best friends. She had given Faith her  _ personal  _ number, in case anything went wrong.

But that could’ve been an act. No one could trust a basilisk.

(No one could trust a Viper, either. Or a Chameleon. Or even a Gila, if they grew too loyal to the wrong person. No one was safe in Talon, it was all a struggle to stay favored, and Faith was losing.)

Mist had been nice, though. Not the way Jenny and Laticia and  _ Bailey Jane  _ had been, but in the way that no one could quite tell if it was a mimicry of kindness or genuine trying, because Basilisks ( _ everyone  _ who survived in Talon) couldn’t afford to be nice.

(Maybe that’s why so many young dragons went rogue. They got an opportunity to experience kindness. They got an opportunity to  _ be kind.) _

_ (Traitor thought.) _

Faith got off at the next stop. A few people stepped off with her, others stepped on, but they had all left the sheltered bench within five minutes. She dialed Mist. She wasn’t exactly in a situation to be picky.

The first call went to voicemail. As did the second, and the third. She  _ knew  _ that her phone had an unknown number, but this seemed overkill. She needed one ally,  _ one  _ bit of information, and she could fulfill her mission. She could bring Ember back to Talon, and maybe kill at least one of the leaders of the underground. She just needed to talk to Mist.

(It would be nice to talk to Mist, again.)

The phone clicked, and static echoed over the line.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” Mist’s voice came harsh and gravelly, like she hadn’t been sleeping well. “You have five seconds to answer before I lose patience.”

“It’s Faith,” Faith said quickly. “Please don’t hang up and… burn your phone.”

“ _ Fa—”  _ it came out louder than Faith expected, making her cringe, before Mist cut herself off. There was a rustling sound, and murmuring that Faith couldn’t understand, before she continued in a hiss. “Faith? You’re alive?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“You disappeared without a trace. Mr. Hill and I both personally went to your site and just found a bunch of human corpses and your blood everywhere, and then we were both reassigned to separate projects like nothing happened. Where have you been?”

“Tracking down Ember,” Faith said. “I’m in Kentucky at the moment, and I have a lead, but I don’t have any resources to work with. I need a little bit of information and then I’ll be able to complete the mission.”

“The mission is over,” Mist said. “It’s been over for weeks. I can tell Roth that you contacted me and they’ll reassign you to a—” she paused. “To a different case. There are plenty of soldiers and rogues that need killing.”

“I can’t go back,” Faith growled. “This was my first mission where I wasn’t assisting another Viper. My  _ first,  _ and I nearly died. Do you remember your first mission? How much it mattered to you?”

Static continued to crackle over their line. 

“If you’re trying to appeal to my sense of empathy, I should inform you that Basilisks who have empathy tend to die very young, and I’ve been in this system successfully for three years. You can draw your own conclusions.”

“Three years, huh?” Faith said. “Wait, were you  _ babysitting  _ Mr. Hill and I?”

“If I was supposed to, no one told me. And I did a horrible job, so it hardly matters” she muttered. “You know that going after Cobalt and Wesley is a suicide mission, right? I was given both of their files before the mission, and frankly speaking, we should both be dead. They have more kills than most of the Lieutenants in St. George. If they get wind of you—”

“I’m dead, I get it,” Faith said.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” It was said completely seriously, in a way that only a Basilisk or a Viper could talk about the subject. Like Faith was that weak.

(She wasn’t going to go insane, no matter what anyone thought.)

“No. I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re acting like one. Dammit, Faith… look. Just come back. I failed, too, and I’m living with it.”

“And what happened?”

“I’m… threat assessing. Working in an area with a lot of sensitive information and making sure that none of it slips out. It’s not too bad. They’ll probably assign you to a recon mission or something of that caliber.”

Faith shot a venomous glare at a passerby, who sped up her gait.

“It isn’t just that I failed,” she admitted. “Ember is Lilith’s other student. Who failed to get through two months of training. If I can’t beat her…”

“It’s not a question of beating her. It’s a question of beating the leader of the rogue underground and someone he’s personally defending.”

“I’m doing this whether you help me or not,” Faith snapped. “I don’t need your nonexistent empathy or your sympathy, because I’m not going back to Talon until I finish my mission. So help me or  _ don’t.  _ Just know that having some information might help keep me alive.”

There was a long,  _ long  _ silence between them. Mist let out a long groan over the phone.

“You aren’t my responsibility. You aren’t my friend. I’m not supposed to worry about you or Dante ever again, because our mission is over,” she said. “What information do you need?”

Faith let out a breath. “Abraham Jacobson, AKA Griffin Walker. I know that he’s working with Talon, or that Talon is trying to track him down. So is Cobalt. I find him, I find Ember, and I can kill him afterwards, if Talon needs me to. I just need a vague location. I can narrow it down from there.”

“Griffin? I guess I can’t be too shocked that everyone wants him dead. I’ll dig around. No promises, though,” Mist said. 

“Thank you.”

“You owe me, now, so try not to get yourself killed.”

Mist hung up. Faith looked at the phone for a few moments before pocketing it. If Mist had been tracing the call, there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to hide from Talon. She wasn’t a rogue. If someone gave her the direct order to go back to Talon, she would. But until then, she had a mistake to amend.

She checked into a motel room and, for lack of anything to do except wait, took a shower. Hygiene had definitely fallen to the side ever since she left Talon, especially because it had been a pain to shower while injured. It was easier, now. She didn’t get dizzy from the heat, and standing was getting easier. Her chest was healing. The scars were fainter, even after only a few weeks.

Wesley was a good medic. She could admit that.

Ember would be a good medic, too. She had the disposition for it.

Ember wouldn’t be a medic  _ period.  _ She was going back to Talon and getting reassigned to wherever her superiors decided to put her. She would lose, and Faith would win, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her.

(She’d be Lilith’s protégé, again.  _ Only  _ Faith.)

Ember, Faith decided, was occupying way too much of her thoughts. When she was new in her training, she thought it would be helpful to think like her targets, like she would be able to better guess their moves. Now, she knew better. Thinking like her target just personalized them and made them harder to kill. She didn’t need to think about how Ember would make a good medic for the underground, because she had the steady hands and quick thinking of a Viper but the compassion of someone who could only survive as a rogue. She didn’t need to know that she would give second chances to anyone who needed them; her brother, a soldier of St. George, probably Faith, if she wanted one. 

Which she didn’t. She, unlike Ember, could survive in Talon  _ fine. _

And it wasn’t Faith’s business that Ember wouldn’t survive in Talon. She just needed to get her back. Any re-education was a problem for upper management. And Dante Hill, but he wasn’t her problem, either, beyond the fact that it would be convenient to have a Chameleon ally in the future, which she would gain by bringing Ember back. Whether or not she lived beyond that wasn’t Faith’s concern. In fact, it would be convenient if she didn’t make it. That meant Faith could stop thinking about her.

Faith dried herself off with a motel towel that smelled like cigarette smoke and tried not to miss her barrack’s room at the training compound. She wasn’t a student anymore. She was a graduated Viper, even with her lapses in training. She wouldn’t go back to that barrack. She was onto bigger and brighter things.

Such as seedy motel rooms with horrible television, waiting for Mist to call her back, and hoping that she hadn’t told a superior about their correspondence. 

She flipped the TV channel to a truly horrible house hunting show and let that fill her mind instead. She started mapping out the best way to break into every house. It kept her mind off of everything she’d rather not think about. 

At 9:00, her phone rang.

“Are you in a safe place to talk?” Not the politest way to open a conversation, but polite conversations were for Chameleons, not Vipers or Basilisks.

“I’m in my apartment. Swept it for bugs before I called. No one knows we’re talking, and I intend to keep it that way.” So Mist had an apartment. Interesting. “What about you?”

“The walls are thin, but I have the TV on, so that should drown everything out,” Faith replied. “If someone went far enough to bug this place, they deserve to catch me. Do you have anything for me?”

“Took some favor calling with my superiors, but I have a lot, actually. Talon’s taking interest in Mr. Abraham Jacobson, and he’s not nearly as good at hiding as the people you’re actually supposed to be tracking down. And another thing…”

There was a pause, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop around her.

“Okay? What’s the news?”

“So, you’re listed as missing. You have been for a while. Mr. Hill and I both searched the area, and it was… honestly, I think he was a bit traumatized by the ordeal. You and Ember left quite the wreckage behind.”

Faith cringed. 

“I’ve checked over your status a few times over the past few weeks. At the moment, there’s…” Mist let out a long breath, audible over the receiver. “There’s a Viper tracking you down.”

The world stopped spinning.

“You’re not a rogue. The Viper shouldn’t hurt you if they catch up to you. It’s just that no one has any idea where you are. Except me, now. You really shouldn’t put much trust in basilisks, you know. It will ultimately end badly.”

Faith gulped, her throat dry. Her voice wasn’t smooth or confident when she managed to ask, “Are you going to turn me in, then?”

“No,” Mist sighed. “Look. I know that this was the first mission that you weren’t shadowing a superior. I remember my first mission like that, and how much it meant. This Viper is good. He’ll catch up to you on his own time. Until then… Abraham Jacobson is in New Orleans. I don’t know where.” There was a silence. Faith knew that this was probably the end of the conversation. But being perfectly honest, it was nice to hear Mist again. She knew that Basilisks couldn’t be trusted because Talon was all an intricate web of lies and maneuvers to try to get close to the top,  _ no one  _ could be trusted, but having at least  _ half  _ an ally was relieving.

Having it be Mist was nice, too. She had been kind, keeping an eye on both her and Dante, like she’d bother to keep them safe if things went bad.

Which she wouldn’t have.

(Would she?)

“Stay safe. I’d really like it if you made it back in one piece,” Mist said softly. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Faith replied. “New Orleans?”

“New Orleans.”

Faith took a deep breath. Her chest hurt at the movement, but the world no longer lacked the oxygen to function. She hung up, staring at her phone. Mist knew her number, now. It would be smart to ditch it, like she ditched the phone the rogues had left her.

She pocketed it and stood, packing everything up. She’d need to steal another car to get down to New Orleans.

Faith gave herself permission to groan louder than strictly necessary. She wasn’t looking forward to the trip.

~***~

Faith was in New Orleans for about five minutes before she decided that she hated it.

She didn’t like  _ hot,  _ she didn’t like  _ humid,  _ and she didn’t like  _ crowds.  _ New Orleans seemed like a city designed to make her miserable, and the entire place was structurally unsound and hard to navigate. Driving twelve hours straight to get there wasn’t worth it. 

It would be worth it if she could track down Griffin, though. If she tracked down Griffin, she tracked down Ember, and…

She really needed to plan that part out. She doubted either leaders of the underground had any qualms with murder. But neither of them would just let her take Ember, because both of them knew that what waited for Ember back in Talon wasn’t anything good. 

Faith wasn’t sure exactly what they would do with Ember. But she didn’t have to care about what happened to Lilith’s failure of a student. It wasn’t her job. The weak and compassionate didn’t survive in the world.

(They could. So many people had proven that they could.)

_ Traitor thought. _

She would’ve liked to say that she tracked down Griffin through resourcefulness and wit, but honestly, she lucked out. She had narrowed down her search to parts of the city lax on security cameras, and narrowed her search  _ further  _ to ‘upscale’ motels. The few times Talon had gotten close to Griffin, it had been in places like those. It would take her several days to get through everything, but she was close. She was  _ so  _ close.

And then she found him walking down the street.

Faith narrowed her eyes, parked her car, and followed. Wesley had said that Griffin was slippery and amoral, thinking of the members of the rogue underground as commodities. He was the person behind multiple raids to their safehouses, probably by Talon and St. George alike. She could understand why the resident medic would hate him for everything he was worth. But it was a good trait for Faith’s purposes. It meant she could strike a deal with him.

Something in her stomach knotted at the thought. He thought of people as  _ assets.  _ She supposed that was only natural— the leaders of Talon saw humans more as assets than individuals, after all, so it could go both ways. But it felt dangerous. It meant that Griffin would think of  _ her  _ in terms of her usefulness, and she didn’t have much to offer. It was dangerous. And both of them would be looking to double cross each other.

Then again, that was putting an awful lot of trust in Wesley Higgins, who wasn’t the most stable individual. He probably had his share of paranoia. 

(But he obviously cared enough to notice. It was more of a warning than Faith would’ve gotten from anyone else.)

(And she’d end up killing him for it.)

Griffin, it was easy to tell, had the same paranoia that every rogue worth their salt seemed to possess. But she had an advantage, because he was on the lookout for Cobalt and his friends, by the way he stiffened when he saw a dark-skinned man with hair down to his shoulders. He was  _ not  _ looking for a pale teenage-girl who apologized profusely to the vendor she bumped into while stealing sunglasses from the cart, so it wasn’t too difficult to follow him to the motel he was staying in. Much nicer than the ones Cobalt’s group usually stayed in, but still a motel. 

Faith wrinkled her nose. If she kept going into smoking-permitted rooms, she might as well bite the bullet and start smoking. Some people claimed it was calming.

She didn’t manage to track him all the way back to his room, and she wasn’t about to ask the front desk which room he was in. She ducked into the side alley. The fire escape had a security camera trained on it, but it was damaged, which was a dead giveaway that Griffin was near the fire escape. Or that this motel was struggling financially.

She climbed the fire escape, and learned the motel was not struggling financially.

Griffin was on the second floor of the motel, drinking… something. Judging by the bottle on the dresser he was leaning against, it was alcoholic. 

Faith missed alcohol. She hadn’t had any since her assimilation, and she hadn’t drank it often, but with her current circumstances, alcohol sounded pleasant. Maybe, as they were planning on how to dispose of Cobalt’s underground, she could have some.

Her stomach knotted again. Having alcohol with a known backstabber was a bad idea.

She wanted to take her gun out and shoot him. A clean assassination that she was trained for. She didn’t like jumping through hoops to get to her target. Especially when the hoops involved revealing her position and trying to strike a deal with a rogue human who  _ no one  _ trusted.

_ Well, sitting on this fire escape won’t do anything to help me. _

Faith stood up and knocked on the window. 

She saw the white’s of Griffin’s eyes as his head whipped towards the window, entire body tensing to run. Faith grinned and waved, then pointed towards the lock on the window. She could break in, but that would take time that she didn’t want to waste. Griffin stayed frozen. Faith dropped her smile and pulled out her gun, then raised a slow eyebrow. She pointed to the lock again. This time, he made his way to the window and unlocked it.  _ How kind of him. _

“Mr. Jacobson,” Faith greeted, using the voice she learned from Lilith. His eyes darted around like a rabbit in the jaws of a cat, knowing there was no way to escape but still looking for something.

“Faith, I believe,” Griffin said, and his voice was still made of silk, even in his situation. “If I had known I’d have a visitor, I would’ve poured a second glass of whiskey.”

“I don’t drink,” Faith lied, easing herself into the room. Griffin backpedaled. Faith let him get five feet from the door before she cleared her throat pointedly. “Relax, human. There’s undoubtedly someone after you, but it isn’t me. I’m just here for some conversation.”

Griffin gave a smile that didn’t match his eyes. “That’s why you came in through the window, I suppose.”

Faith shrugged and smiled. “Old habits die hard.” She put away the gun as a sign of goodwill, then took her knife out casually, pretending to ignore how Griffin stiffened as she checked the sharpness of it. “So. I hear that you played a few too many sides of the board, and it caught up to you back in Vegas. Cobalt wants to kill you, and Wesley Higgins wants to torture you, first. Personally, I think I should let them. Karma, and all that.” 

“I am well aware of my current situation.”

“Talon is also looking for you. They have been since you... outlived your usefulness. The rogues don’t trust traitors, turns out,” Faith said. She smirked, fixing her gaze on the human. “Just out of curiosity, have you tried contacting St. George, yet? It might get you another two months, if you’re smart about it.”

“It’s true, what they say about Lilith’s students. You lot really are sadists.”

Faith was good at hiding her expressions— Vipers couldn’t rely on stealth alone, these days— so she gave a bright grin and ignored the cold feeling piercing through her chest. Sadists didn’t get anything done in her field. Sadists  _ died. _

(She would’ve died, if her mark hadn’t been kind.)

“We are,” she agreed. “But you’re lucky, because I’m also curious. How are you planning on getting away from them?”

Griffin raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by the question. Then he gave a cocky, business-like smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It made Faith’s gut clench again. It almost reminded her of Dante, all charm and charisma, but something about it was off.

“I’m not planning on running from them, actually. I have some pressing information that Cobalt will want to hear. Enough to win me back into… not into his good graces, he’s much too smart for that. But I will be safe, and there will be a time that I’ll be privy to his inner circle. Cobalt. Wesley. The two children that seem to be tailing him, these days.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

“Because the information I’m giving him will lead him into an ambush,” Griffin said. His expression didn’t change when he said it. It was like there were cockroaches crawling under Faith’s suit. She had to be very,  _ very  _ careful this person wouldn’t stab her in the back.

“St. George will kill Cobalt, and his human friend will have to scramble to keep his hatchlings safe. Not much time to track me down, that way. However, that does pose a problem for me.”

“Does it,” Faith said, letting her smile drop into vague disinterest. It posed a problem for her, too. She couldn’t bring Ember back to Talon if she was dead by a St. George bullet.

“I still have to watch my back for your particular organization. You’re right: there probably  _ is  _ someone looking for me. However, I would be willing to strike a deal to get back into good graces of the organization. I did like the work I did there, and I’m much too old to be running,” he said. Faith didn’t trust him for a minute. She kept her expression of disinterest. “Just because Cobalt will die doesn’t mean the underground will follow, not with his human still running things. That boy is smart, and he’ll be out for blood. Not just mine. I’ll be close to Cobalt’s human for a limited amount of time. I have the chance to get  _ all  _ of the locations of the underground. I was planning to sell them to St. George, but I could hand them all over to Talon instead.”

There were roaches in her stomach and throat, and Faith realized what was  _ off  _ about his smile. Dante, ever the Chameleon, was still genuine, still thought about actions and consequences, still cared in a way that this human  _ didn’t.  _ Wes had said that Griffin thought the underground as a commodity, and he was right. He’d grab for safety from Cobalt and kill him just as quickly, and sacrifice everything else for good measure. There was nothing behind his smile. Nothing to trust. Nothing to care for. Nothing worth making a  _ deal  _ with. Faith was a killer (sadist), but she still knew the worth of what she was killing. This  _ thing  _ didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t  _ care  _ that he didn’t know. 

He was dangerous. He was dangerous for Talon. He was dangerous to her mission. (He was dangerous to the people who had showed her kindness.)

Faith already had her knife out. It was meant for an intimidation tactic, but it was too easy to cross the room before he could move (he was slow), and she had learned to use a knife before she learned to use a gun. She hit his temple before he could move, then his throat, then his chest, and there was blood on her clothes, her hands, her face. Her body hummed with adrenaline and electricity and something  _ hot  _ in her chest that wasn’t fire.

She had been  _ made  _ to kill, those years of training. She was good at it. It gave her a rush the way nothing else ever could.

She had missed this feeling.

Griffin’s body hit the floor, and he was dead five seconds after that. Faith took a deep breath, feeling a grin slide off her face as she realized she had just killed her best lead. A lead that would’ve killed Cobalt, and done Talon plenty of favors.

A lead that was about to kill Ember. 

Kill her  _ mission _ . That’s all that Ember was to her. And now the rogue underground had no one to track down, so Faith couldn’t find them, and someone was going to find Griffin’s body eventually, and the rogue underground wasn’t about to be destroyed like Talon would’ve liked.

Faith took a deep steadying breath, flicking her knife closed. What was done was done. No one except for Mist knew where she had been. There was nothing left for her in this city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faith's murder count: 1
> 
> RIP Griffin. You had a very short role, because I hate you and so does literally everyone else.


	8. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early chapter for those of us who can't visit relatives over the season. American of me, I know, but it's more important for some people than others. I can't fix COVID, but I hope this sparks some joy. To anyone who IS visiting relatives for the thanksgiving season: please for the love of all sacred, stay at home.

Ember got to stay at a nice hotel room with strong water pressure and rooms free of cockroaches for about three days. The situation was less-than ideal, with Wes’ bite wound being infected and Riley demanding they sleep at a slightly more sanitary location, but it had been nice to sleep in a room that didn’t smell like mold. 

Said stay in a room that didn’t smell like mold was promptly cut short by Griffin contacting Wes, saying he wanted to negotiate, and telling them his location. While everyone knew this was strictly a good thing, it would’ve been convenient if they had gotten this message  _ after  _ Wes’ fever broke.

“Ember’s going to crash and kill us all,” Wes muttered from the backseat, apparently still bitter that Riley said he wasn’t allowed to drive more than an hour.

“It’s been two days, will you give it a break?” Riley asked.

“No.”

“So, let’s go over the plan again,” Riley said. Ember gave a small sigh, but didn’t object. Riley had a  _ thing  _ about plans. Even after they finalized them, he’d go over them five or six times to make sure everyone understood them. It reminded her of her teachers, trying to jam a point into her head because they didn’t trust she’d remember. 

“I meet with Griffin, see what he has to say, figure out what he knows and what he’s trying to offer, we part ways. From there, Ember tails him— keep your hood up to cover your hair— until she finds his hotel, call me, and I take care of him,” he said. 

Ember winced, but tried to ignore the crawly feeling in her stomach at the thought of murder. She wasn’t naive enough to think that this could end without bloodshed. It was what had to happen to keep Griffin from spreading anymore information. But it still hurt to think of killing another person. 

The fact that she had killed people before didn’t help her swallow it. She wondered when her past kills would make committing the act easier. She didn’t know if she wanted it to be easier, either.

“We reconvene, get to the safehouse in Baton Rouge, lay low until Wes stops having a fever, go from there.”

“I, personally, think we should go over the members of our underground— human and dragon— with a fine-toothed comb until we’re sure we don’t have any other traitors. Griffin specialized in getting information through a mostly word-of-mouth network, so we need to make sure it’s in the dust,” Wes said from the backseat. “And reorganize our network to better compartmentalize information. Make sure that we’re the only two people who know everything.”

“Agreed.”

“I can do parts of that while in recovery.”

“ _ Not  _ agreed.”

Wes groaned. “You know, you jab at  _ my  _ anxiety, but I get one little fever, and you act like the world’s ending.”

“How are you feverish and  _ still  _ trying to make work for yourself?” Ember asked.

“I do horribly with inactivity.”

Ember did her best to parallel park without crashing into anything. It was two blocks away from their meeting space, far enough that Griffin wouldn’t find them, but wasn’t too far away to run to if bullets started flying.

“Okay, face me,” Riley said. Ember sighed as Riley pulled a plastic bag from under his seat and rummaged through it, pulling out foundation that was a few shades lighter than Ember’s skin tone. Personally, she thought that disguise was unnecessary. Griffin had only seen her in passing. But she was tracking him down solo, so it was better safe than sorry.

“Why do you know how to do makeup?” she asked as he started applying foundation.

“I’m a basilisk. I can make myself look like a forty-year-old caucaison male during a heist and then wash my face and walk down the street without anyone the wiser,” Riley said confidently. Ember sighed. “I know you hate it, firebrand. At least you probably don’t get hives.”

“I’m still bitter about that,” Wes said. 

Riley continued to talk through their plan as he worked, including plans for if Talon showed up, if St. George showed up, if Griffin had a hostage— both if that hostage was a hatchling or a human civilian— if Ember got caught, and if Griffin managed to injure anyone. Ember tried her best not to zone out. 

Wes, with the 101 degree fever, was following the conversation perfectly fine. Of course he was.

“Okay, I’m done. You can relax,” Riley said. Ember checked her reflection, raising her eyebrows at what Riley had done. Her skin was pale, she didn’t have any freckles, she could barely see the burn scar on her cheek, and her bone structure looked entirely different. Riley was  _ skilled.  _ Lexi and Kristen would’ve been all over him.

“Remember. Keep the hoodie over your face until he starts getting suspicious, then take it off and throw it away. Change your posture when you do.”

Ember nodded.

“Wait five minutes before you follow me, don’t keep your eyes on us the entire time.”

She nodded. 

“Repeat it back to me.”

Ember tried hard not to gripe as she repeated everything. She knew that this wasn’t like her lessons back in Talon, learning and repeating abstract facts about things that would never apply to her in a way that mattered. This was vital to the survival of her new community. But there was a line between caution and full-blown paranoia, and she wasn’t sure exactly which side Riley was on. She wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to bring it up, either, the same way she didn’t know if she could bring up the fact that Wes only slept deeply while they were driving, or that Riley switched between being able to eat takeout and thinking it was poisoned depending on his stress level. The same way Riley obviously kept trying to bring up her insomnia but let Ember skirt the topic way too easily.

She supposed that it came with the job description.

“— and if he confronts me in public, remember that I can get away with kicking him in the groin and calling the cops on him.”

“Never underestimate the power of white privilege.” Riley gave a short nod before he left the car and headed down the street. Ember, true to the plan, waited five minutes before she handed the car keys off to Wes and followed, keeping her hood up and trying not to scratch her face. Seriously, how much makeup did Riley put on her face? 

The outdoor cafe was fairly empty, so she could order a lemonade and get a seat where she could easily see Riley, sitting with his back to a wall, scanning the people around him. He looked relaxed, slightly slouched. It was hard to believe that Ember and once thought that he was  _ actually  _ as carefree as he acted. She wondered how many precautions he had taken before their illegal midnight flight. How many masks he built, and if the face he wore around her was his real one. How she could still feel the way she felt when half of his personality had been a fabrication, and how she could feel  _ more  _ now that she saw cracks that he stopped trying to smooth over.

She was staring. She needed  _ not  _ to stare. She looked at the pretty woman sitting a few tables away and sipped her lemonade.

Five minutes passed. Then ten, then fifteen. Riley started getting fidgety and made a quick call, probably with Wes. Twenty minutes. Twenty-five.

Riley stood, gave her a pointed look, and walked out of the square. Ember followed. She didn’t need him to explain what was going on.

Griffin had stood them up.

By the time she got to the van, Riley and Wes were both swearing empathetically and barely acknowledged her when she slipped into the backseat.

“He has a three days headstart on us now, we still don’t know what he knows, who he still has contact with, who’s he’s selling us out to—”

“You could’ve been in recovery those three days instead of on the road, and if Talon’s looking for him then there’s probably still someone  _ here—” _

“Bloody fucking slimy-ass weasel, we are decapitating him when he shows his face again,  _ I  _ will murder him—”

“You don’t fight.”

“I’ve killed people!”

“You’re running a fever right now.”

“Murder is always an option,” Wes growled, putting the car into drive. Riley didn’t even tell him to switch seats. “We need to start combing through the underground. Now. We’ve waited too long.”

“You said that fevers impair judgement,” Ember said. Wes gave her a backwards peace sign in response. She had a distinct feeling that the sign was insulting on the other side of the globe. “Just saying.”

“Ember’s right,” Riley sighed. “We need to focus on damage control right now. Lay low, steal some IV antibiotics, because oral ones obviously aren't working. I’ll start contacting hatchlings and making sure they’re safe and they trust their guardians. We’ll start combing through everyone properly and tracking down Griffin when your brain isn’t slow-roasting.”

“Thanks for the mental image,” Wes said dryly. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“You’re a human.” Ember could hear Riley’s smirk as he spoke. “You’re all made of glass.”

~***~

They ended up at an Airbnb, which was a very nice change, even if it only had one bedroom. It had a kitchen area and a TV, which was nice. She could eat skittles, jerky, and takeout three meals a day, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take a hot meal when they had the chance. Riley wasted no time in going shopping and coming back with food that they could cook. Also IV antibiotics that were probably stolen from yet another veternarian’s practice.

“Why vets?” Ember asked, idly watching the news as Riley started to cook. They were having macaroni with ham, apparently— all with ingredients that were sealed previously, unable to be tampered with— but she wasn’t going to complain. A hot meal was a hot meal.

“They have more generalized equipment, made to be used for several different species. Also, lower security,” Riley responded.

“Thanks for the meds,” Wes said. “Did you get probiotics, too?”

“What do you take me for?”

Wes snorted and didn’t respond, instead opening his firstaid kit and looking pointedly at Ember until she walked over. She had watched enough videos and talked about needles enough not to be as squeamish— not to mention all of the times she and Dante had been to the infirmary— but she had a feeling that it would be different seeing a real person put in an IV line. Especially when that person looked like fresh hell. 

Wes handed her the butterfly needle.

“Wait, what?”

“Put a pair of gloves on and stab me,” he said. Ember stared at him. “What?”

“This is important.”

“It’s very important, yes.”

“I could mess up.”

“You probably will.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s an IV, not an open heart surgery,” Wes rolled his eyes. “If you mess up, you take it out and try again. It can’t be worse than when Riley—”

“Please don’t tell Ember my mistakes.”

Wes pursed his lips shut, but he was smirking. “Besides, my hands are shaking and I’m  _ very  _ tired. I’d probably fuck it up in my state.”

Ember winced, opening her mouth to try to convince him to let Riley do it, but with a glare from Wes, she grabbed for a pair of gloves. She theoretically knew how to do this, and Wes wouldn’t let her anywhere near his health if he didn’t trust her at least a  _ little.  _ But there was so much that could go wrong. 

“Are you seriously freezing up over an IV?” Wes asked.

“No,” Ember lied, grabbing his arm and tying a tourniquet a few inches above the elbow. She pulled at his skin until she could see his veins, positioned the catheter and needle as well as she could and tried not to wince when it pierced his skin. 

Wes, to his credit, tried his best not to hiss.

“I stabbed through the vein,” Ember said, like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah. Thin veins, they run in the family,” Wes said. “I’m back bleeding, aren’t I?”

“ _ Fuck.”  _ Ember took out the needle and rushed to give Wes a gauze patch. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine, of it the things to screw up, it’s pretty benign, I promise,” Wes said. “It’ll just hurt for a bit. And… let’s not stab me in that area again, okay?”

“Wait, you want me to try again?”

“You didn’t miss the vein, you just put the needle at the wrong angle,” Wes said. “Riley—”

“Shut  _ up. _ ” Riley said.

“Try again,” Wes ordered. “New needle. Back of my hand.”

Ember took a deep breath, and tried not to look at the crook of Wes’ elbow, where she could already see the beginnings of what would become a nasty bruise. She tried to find a vein that she wouldn’t stab through, and she had really just messed up an IV, how could she do anything on the  _ field? _

“You’re panicking,” Wes pointed out.

“You’re stressing me out.”

“Please just stab me so I can stop having sepsis.”

Ember turned back to the task in front of her. She found a vein in the back of his hand, positioned the needle properly, and carefully,  _ carefully  _ inserted it. She removed the needle, leaving only the IV, and put pressure on his vein as quickly as possible before he could start back bleeding. She waited for a few moments, just to make sure blood wouldn’t start spurting everywhere, before taping it down and putting the bag on a shelf above them, then connecting the IV to the bag.

There was a long pause between the two of them.

“That  _ worked? _ ” Ember asked.

“Yes. That didn’t deserve nearly as much anxiety as you gave it,” Wes said, more drowsy than anything else. Ember rolled her eyes, undid the tourniquet, and put the needles in the need-to-clean-or-dispose case. 

“I think that Wes means to say  _ you did well  _ and  _ thank you, _ ” Riley turned away from the stove. “Really, thank you. I can’t put in IVs to save my life. You have a talent for this.”

Ember’s cheeks got very warm very fast. “You think so?”

“Yeah. There’s more to being a rogue than fighting and killing, I promise. And there’s a lot more to you than what Lilith taught you.” His smirk softened. “A lot more. You’re something special, you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Will you two please stop flirting in front of me?”

Ember was probably bright red by now, but Riley laughed, reached over, and ruffled Wes’ hair. Wes slapped his hand away.

“Don’t mind Wes, he’s just obnoxiously asexual sometimes.”

“Says the obnoxious allosexual.”

“What’s an asexual?”

“Oh my god.”

Riley snickered again and turned back to the macaroni. Wes put his head down on the table and looked like he was going to try to sleep until he got his laptop privileges back. Ember took her gloves off and went back to staring at the TV. 

“ _ The body was discovered by the motel manager this morning, and has since been ruled a murder. There are no suspects or leads on the man’s identity, _ ” a news reporter was saying, showing a shot of a low-end motel. In the corner, there was a picture of the body, which—

“Oh god. Guys,  _ guys,  _ look!” Ember slapped Wes’ shoulder. Wes groaned. “Look at the TV!”

“What is— oh, bloody hell.” 

There was a silence as they all looked at the screen, where the reporter was giving a description of what  _ John Doe _ had been wearing before he died. John Doe, who looked exactly like Griffin Walker.

“Well,” Riley’s voice came out strangled. “I guess we don’t need to kill Griffin, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this plotline! Medic Ember is real, and she's doing her best.
> 
> Update still scheduled for Saturday or Sunday.


	9. Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's a good thing I posted in the middle of the week, because I had forgotten how short this chapter was. Whoops. :( Still, a chapter's a chapter, and it introduces some things I've been looking forward to, so... without further ado—

Thirty minutes away from New Orleans, Faith pulled into a visitor’s center. Her clothes were dark enough to hide the bloodstains, but she still bought some new ones at the visitor’s center, changing out of a turtleneck and into a tank top. She didn’t wear her suit under it. It was too hot in this area for long sleeves, anyway. She washed her face in the sink even though she hadn’t gotten any blood on her face, drew her hair up in a bun, and left like nothing had happened.

She also bought a lighter and hairspray from the gift store. Five minutes into a backroad, she got out and set her old clothes on fire.

Ten minutes later, her phone rang. Faith had memorized Mist’s number, so she pulled over when she saw it on her screen. Pulled over. Took a breath.

“Hi,” she said.

“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did,” Mist hissed. Faith winced.

“What do you think I did?” 

“Killed Abraham Jacobson,” Mist said.

“Wow, that’s crazy, I had no idea he died. I guess that I’m back to square one,” Faith replied. “Though, from what I can tell, he was becoming a thorn in Talon’s side, as well, so I think it’s good news to hear he’s dead.”

“I’m the only person who knows you were in New Orleans. The popular consensus seems to be that the rouges caught up to Jacobson ahead of schedule and didn’t hear his bargain. I’m not going to say any differently,” Mist said carefully. “But…”

“But…” Faith repeated.

“Look, some things are  _ weird  _ surrounding his death. There’s wind that some higher ups are upset about it, that he was supposed to do something before he was taken care of. I don’t know if he still had information on the rogues, or something, but  _ someone  _ is throwing a fit over it.”

Faith furrowed her brow. “Someone is throwing a fit over the death of  _ that  _ type of human? How many secrets did he sell to the underground, again?”

“Yeah, it makes absolutely no sense from my end, either,” Mist muttered. “But the point is, we’re both tangled in this now, and I can’t cover for you forever. Hell, if anyone looks too carefully at what happened, they’ll know it wasn’t the underground.” There was a pause. “You really stabbed him to death?”

“Hey, I’m not confirming anything to a Basilisk.”

“Smart choice.”

“In theory, Griffin had a certain double cross that would’ve killed Ember, which means my mission would be dead in the water.” In theory, Griffin saw objects in the people who had saved his life, and traded them around like they were tokens without a second thought. Griffin would sell anyone for the right price, and people like that were a risk to work with and had to be taken down. (People like that were a dime a dozen in Talon, no wonder Ember ran and Cobalt was paranoid and—)

_ Traitor thought. _

“Well, in theory, if anyone found out that you were responsible for Griffin’s brutal stabbing, your status as missing and non hostile could get  _ very  _ shaky. And in theory, I wouldn’t be sticking my neck out for you,” Mist replied. Her voice stayed smooth and level, but that didn’t make her words any less horrifying. Faith, to her credit, didn’t react audibly.

They  _ wouldn’t  _ find out. Faith had no reason to kill Griffin. The rogues did.

“That would be unfortunate,” Faith replied instead.

“It would be. So what do you intend to do about it?”

That was more familiar. Faith’s trainers would have her work strategy for disaster situations before. 

“The mission hasn’t changed. I can still find Ember and return her to Talon.”

“How?”

“I…” Faith paused. Even when she had Griffin as a lead, she didn’t know how to deal with Cobalt or Wesley. She knew that she could leverage Dante against his sister as much as she needed, but they didn’t have any weak points that Faith could control. They had twelve years of experience in keeping hatchlings away from Talon. Faith had eight months of Viper training. She had been fast tracked through the program, and was starting to see that as a disadvantage.

(Lilith told her it was because she didn’t  _ need  _ as much training, that she was a better student than everyone else, but maybe Lilith had just gotten tired of teaching when there was still fieldwork to be done.)

(Maybe she had just gotten tired of teaching  _ Faith. _ )

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ve gotten close multiple times. I can do it again.”

“Faith, we both read over Cobalt’s and Wesley’s need-to-know. They’re good at staying off of Talon’s radar, and Talon is a trillion-dollar operation. If you have any hope of finding them, you’d need to have Talon’s resources. Please consider coming back,” Mist said. “You’re going to get killed if you try to face them head-on.”

Faith groaned. Mist was right. She knew that she didn’t stand a chance against Cobalt. Cobalt had killed several of Lilith’s students before, and he had already given her mercy once. That wasn’t going to happen again.

She had gotten close once and couldn’t follow through, and she didn’t understand why.

“I can’t go back right now,” Faith said.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Faith paused, watching a car speed past.

“Spit it out, Faith.”

“Because I could’ve completed the mission! They— I tracked them down, and Cobalt was out for a few hours, and I could’ve killed the human and taken Ember if I hadn’t... hesitated,” Faith said. Her voice sounded desperate to her own ears. “I hesistated for stupid reasons and then they were  _ gone. _ ”

There was a silence on Mist’s end.

“You really shouldn’t tell Basilisks these things,” Mist sighed. Faith was pretty sure that talking to a Basilisk was safer than talking to Chameleon, but kept the thought to herself. “Look, Faith. Everyone in a violent line of work hesitates sometimes. I know I have. It doesn’t make you a bad agent. You just have to accept that and move on.”

“I  _ can’t _ move on,” Faith said. “I have to see this through. I have to…”

She still wanted to understand. People outside of Talon were stupidly soft, and they were still  _ alive.  _ Cobalt and Wesley were still soft and  _ kind  _ even though they had been part of Talon’s inner workings. Faith couldn’t understand how they managed it and it was  _ infuriating.  _ People who were soft weren’t supposed to survive for so long.

“Fine,” Mist whispered. “Fine.  _ Fine. _ I’m already illegally contacting you, I might as well commit. We can meet up and figure out exactly where to go from here. I have unresolved issues concerning that mission, too, and I’d rather you not die at the hands of Cobalt. There’s a safehouse in Maryland we can meet in. I can be there tomorrow, probably. We’ll figure things out from there.”

That sounded like a trap to Faith’s ears, an easy place to lure her and drag her back to Talon so Mist could—

She wasn’t on the run from Talon. Mist was a Basilisk, but they were still  _ allies.  _ If this was a ploy to bring Faith back to Talon, then she’d go back to Talon and take a reassignment or further training. Just that easy. 

“Okay,” Faith responded. “Safehouse in Maryland. I can do that.”

~***~

Mist texted her the address, and Faith resigned herself to a night of driving. It had been weeks since her injury, and staying awake was easier now that oxygen had returned to the world, but it still wasn’t pleasant to drive through the night in a stolen car with a broken muffler. She stopped around 3:00 in the morning so she could sleep at another visitor’s center. She hadn’t showered in three days. She really needed to shower. 

She arrived in Maryland with little fanfare and only got lost once on her way to Mist’s safehouse, a secluded log cabin that looked like it had been built in the Great Depression. There was one unmarked car in the driveway. A good place to meet if you wanted to be sure that no one was listening. A good place for an ambush, as well.

Not that Faith was concerned about an ambush. If Mist had coordinated with someone to bring her back, then she’d go back. It was that simple.

(Was it?)

Faith parked her car, walked to the porch and tried the handle. To her surprise, it opened, even if it creaked horribly when it did. 

The first thing that she noticed wasn’t that the place only had one room, or that it was being lit by oil lamps. The first thing she noticed was that Mist was in the room, and she wasn’t  _ alone.  _ And not in the way she expected.

“Dante Hill?” Faith asked, her voice incredulous. Dante took up from a pile of papers and stood, giving a somewhat flimsy smile.

“Faith,” he replied. “It’s... good to see you alive. I know that you weren’t informed that I was coming, but Mist thought it would be smart. To be fair, she didn’t inform me that you were alive until twelve hours ago. Thanks, Mist.”

Faith turned to Mist, who was also sitting at the table. She took a long sip from a starbucks cup before responding. “He’s her brother. That means something, apparently.”

“And I’m doing fairly well in Talon, so I might have access to resources that you two don’t,” he continued. “It’s the least I can do for you in your mission.”

Faith looked him over. They had only met once, when he was in a suit and they were both acting so much older than they were (If he and Ember really were twins, he was two months younger than Faith and had been shoved into a position to big for him to fill, and she couldn’t tell if that was favoritism or a test.), but she could see that he had changed since then, for better or worse.

“You’re staring,” he pointed out.

“Your makeup doesn’t quite hide your eyebags,” she replied. 

Dante blinked, some shock slipping through his expression, but he recovered so quickly that she could’ve blinked and missed it. “You’re not even trying to conceal yours.” 

She smiled, and couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “It’s good to see you, too. You said that you were still doing well in Talon?”

He nodded. “Indeed I have, they moved me to a different project. Mostly just keeping information straight and making sure it reaches the right people, but it’s gotten me some good credit.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sat back down. “All cards in the table, I was actually told outright to leave my sister be.” 

“All cards on the table, I was told to forget the mission, too,” Mist said. “That neither of you were my concern anymore.”

“So… why are you two here?” Faith asked. “Not that I’m not… happy for the company, but if Talon told you not to look at the mission, you could both get in a lot of trouble for ignoring orders.”

“Ember’s my sister,” Dante said evenly. “I don’t expect either of you to understand that sentiment, nor would I ever expect Talon to understand it, but it means something to me.”

“Because Talon doesn’t want us to look at the mission, and that feels suspicious,” Mist replied. She shrugged at their stares. “I’m a Basilisk, so you can call it paranoia. Either way—” she took another swig of Starbucks, set it beside her, and dragged a stack of papers closer “—Dante and I have twelve hours before people will notice our absences. A lot can get done in twelve hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you think there was ever a moment in story planning that DIDN'T involve the inevitable reformation of Team Vegas? You think that Dante and Mist WOULDN'T join this storyline and get dragged into amoral decision-making? Fools. It was written in my Google Docs outline from the beginning.


	10. Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SUPER EXCITED about this chapter. To those who don't see my tumblr, Team Vegas (Mist, Faith, and Dante) is the objectively the most underrated dynamic seen in the Talon Saga, and we were ROBBED of further interactions when JKags killed Faith. I am simply correcting an imbalance.

Over twelve years, there had been a total of four traitors in the underground that had succeeded in getting usable information to Talon. Four, when the underground was in a position where plenty of people would need bargaining chips.

All of them were dead, now. 

“Well. Paranoia does wonders,” Dante noted. 

“It’s not paranoia if a trillion dollar organization is trying to kill you,” Mist said.

“Well, we need to move fast, because every time they’ve gotten a mole they seem to go even further into hiding,” Dante said. “Mr. Smith said Ember’s case had been reassigned. I’m going to try to work that angle, see what information I can get from Talon without being yelled at.”

“Alright,” Faith said, dragging over a stack of files. “I’ll start going through Griffin’s dirt. Might tell where he’s getting his information.”

~***~

“So… what is it like having a sister?”

“A pain in the ass,” Dante responded, then winced. “That’s not— I don’t hate her. Even now. It’s just very... complicated at the moment. I’d like her to come back to Talon so I can stop worrying. It takes a lot of energy that I’d like to spend doing literally anything else.”

Faith twitched as Dante turned back to his work, and felt a spark of indignation that he had been put in charge of Vegas when he was so obviously unsuited to carry the mission. It was the move of a sadist, to make him lead a task that he had a personal stake in and then pull him away from it like it wasn’t allowed to matter.

Faith shook herself. That didn’t matter to her. Dante wasn’t her concern.

(It was like they had set him up to fail, and if they had set  _ him  _ up then they had set Mist and Faith—)

(Traitor. Thought.)

“What do you think will happen when she comes back?” Mist asked.

“I don’t know. She’ll probably be hated for a long time. She’ll probably hate me for longer,” Dante said with a nonchalant shrug. “I can deal with it. We… I mean, she’s my sister and I care for her, obviously, but we were never great at being siblings. It’s not like we had any examples to learn off of. Probably why this fiasco happened in the first place. I just want her back and preferably off the field for a while.”

Faith nodded, even if she didn’t know how much she believed. Everything sounded genuine— genuine concern for his sibling, but genuine loyalty to Talon, and the attempt to gracefully balance those two things (no  _ wonder  _ the organization didn’t like siblings)— but he was a Chameleon, so Faith couldn’t trust him by default.

_ Wow. I really do trust Basilisks more than Chameleons. That’s... bad. _

“Someone look up Remy Chase,” Faith said. “He seems to have a reputation of knowing way too much for his own good.”

%

“So you’re sure Griffin wanted to kill them?”

“Yeah,” Faith said.

“And Talon seemed to want him dead after the Vegas mission was done and through.”

“Super dead.”

“But you’re saying the higher ups aren’t happy with him dead.”

This conversation was leading to a conclusion that Faith didn’t like. Dante didn’t seem to like it either. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to find a way around the obvious solution.

“I think we need to consider the possibility,” Mist said calmly. “Griffin is the best lead we have, dead or not. If he was setting them up on Talon’s orders, or if Talon leaked some information to him—”

“Then that means Talon would probably have a mole inside of the  _ Order, _ ” Faith interrupted. “Talon has been trying to do that for centuries and it never works. You can’t break into a cult. It’s much more likely that Griffin was just trying to take one faction out of the equation and used the Order to do that. I mean, he had his hand in Talon and the Underground’s business. It’s not too much to assume he had a contact in the Order.”

“But why would Talon want him to stay alive, if they didn’t at least know about his plan,” Mist replied. “There are just… there’s a variable that we aren’t seeing, and we can’t solve the equation without it. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s any of our business,” Faith pointed out.

“No. No it is not,” Dante agreed. “Except, the further we dig into Griffin, the more likely we find out if he has a surviving contact in the underground. And that leads us to Cobalt. And  _ that  _ leads us to Ember.”

And it told him if Talon had coordinated with Griffin to kill his sister, but that was  _ totally  _ irrelevant. Faith shifted through another few files of rogue dragons. She had to give Cobalt and Wesley credit— they were good at running their organization. It was an intricate web that only they had all the answers to, no one knowing too much at one point. Something only someone with patience, intelligence, and quite a bit of paranoia could create. 

“Where did you even get these files? These can’t be public,” Faith said.

“Some of them are,” Dante said. “I grabbed those, requested some others. I have a known habit of researching interesting things between working hours, so no one batted an eye, especially when I requested them alongside the files of conquests into India from 1620 to 170o. They think it’s a distraction technique.”

“I requested the rest,” Mist said. 

“Is that safe?” Faith asked. “You said that you weren’t supposed—”

“It wasn’t mission related. Basilisks have a history of paranoia. It’s the biggest contributor to our retirements, actually, so people will easily chalk it up to me being a bit crazy after Vegas nearly got me killed,” Mist shrugged. “I don’t mind the assumptions if they get me what I want.”

Faith nodded. They were both smart, and they seemed to know exactly what they could get away with. She had found good allies, it seemed.

(Good allies, except that they were both going against Talon’s orders when they were meant to be loyal. A proper Viper wouldn’t let them do this.)

(A proper Viper wouldn’t be in the situation at all.)

“You know… this would be so much easier if we could talk to Griffin,” Dante said.

“Shut up,” Faith responded.

~***~

“I’m making another Starbucks run,” Mist announced. “You two want anything?”

“Uh… iced espresso. With one of those caffeine packs,” Faith said. 

“Clover Brewed Coffee,” Dante added. “Black.”

Mist stared at both of them.

“You two hate yourselves.”

~***~

“What a great tasting cinnamon latte that won’t keep me up for twenty hours after we leave.”

Dante made direct eye contact, drank half of his coffee, and probably gained a burnt tongue for it. “It’s the sweet sweet taste of my approaching heart attack.”

~***~

“Mr. Smith has told me to go to bed,” Dante informed them. Faith thought that Mr. Smith needed to give up on that particular battle, because he was  _ not  _ winning it. “But he also told me that Judah Nelson was in charge of processing Griffin’s intel, so if anyone has recent information on the underground, it would be him.”

“Great,” Faith breathed, because searching through underground files was getting somewhere, but it was getting there  _ slowly.  _ Maybe going through Talon would be faster. “Who’s Judah Nelson?”

“A high-ranking Basilisk, from what I can tell. There isn’t much of anything public about him. Mist?”

“Don’t look at me. The only thing a Basilisk trusts less than a Chameleon is another Basilisk,” she said. 

“Is that a company computer?” Faith asked.

“Yes, but I disabled the servers before I left, and we’re not doing anything  _ wrong _ .”

“Hand it over,” Faith said. “I can uncover something.”

Dante gave her a dubious look, but slid the laptop over to her side of the table. Faith grinned at him, cracked her knuckles, and went to work. She wasn’t the best hacker— she thought about the rogue underground and its void presence that somehow managed to infect Talon’s servers from time to time, and knew she was  _ basic—  _ but she could get around Talon’s network fairly easily, if a bit clumsily. Thirty minutes was what it took to find Nelson’s recent files and his reports on Griffin.

“What,” Dante said, watching her.

“Why do you know how to do this?” Mist asked.

“I had too much downtime,” Faith responded. “Basilisks keep detailed records, for a bunch of paranoid spies. Paperwork knows no bounds, I suppose.” She scanned through his reports. He had never met with Griffin in person, but Griffin had fed him information through dead drops and the dark web.  _ There’s a safehouse in Texas— two hatchlings, two humans. One of Cobalt’s ‘graduates’ contacted me, said he’s around Tuscon. Cobalt, Wesley, a hatchling and a human are in Las Vegas, I can help you take them down if you call off your Viper and let me disappear into the crowds. The incident with St. George had nothing to do with me, anyone could’ve fed them that information. _

A crawly, sick feeling welled up inside of Faith. She was glad that she had let this man bleed out in New Orleans.

“Huh. So he’s been working with Talon for six months. From the sounds of it, he really wanted to get out of the underground. I guess Talon’s safer than being in a network that Talon’s trying to kill,” Faith said. “Talon was planning on having him stay in the underground for as long as possible until they got wind he was selling information to St. George behind their backs. The most recent report was on… let me see...”

Faith scanned through it as Dante walked behind her shoulder to read. Nelson had let false information about the breeder facilities slip to one of Griffin’s known contacts, all with the plan to give St. George information about when and where the rogues would be when—

Faith slammed the laptop closed and hoped that Dante  _ hadn’t  _ read that, because Talon had coordinated to make St. George murder his twin sister.

There was a long silence.

“I’m going to… step outside,” he said levelly, ever the Chameleon. 

Faith let him turn and walk away and tried to figure out what to do with this information. Ember wasn’t on the no-kill list. This proved that. It also proved that Faith had interfered with one of Talon’s missions, even if no one outside of this cabin knew that. The information could make Faith’s job easier, assuming she could find Ember. Killing Ember was easier than capturing her. And she had gotten a few names of people in the underground that Griffin got information from. They were easier to find Cobalt, and one of them had to know something. This was good news.

Except that Faith’s only allies in Talon were sitting in this cabin, and one of them wanted his sister back alive. That was problematic. (Except that after weeks of tracking and obsessing over Ember, it felt wrong to put a bullet in her head and be done with it.)

“Ember’s on the kill list,” she said to Mist.

“Not surprising,” Mist said. “What are we going to do about it?”

Faith pursed her lips.

“I’m going to make sure Dante isn’t about to steal one of our cars.”

She walked out. The sun had set a long time ago, but the air was still warm and heavy, filled with the calls of insects and other small creatures. Dante sat at the steps of the porch, posture hunched in a way his teacher would probably beat him for, holding a lit cigarette in his fingers. Faith sat beside him, and promptly realized that she had nothing to say.

(Vipers didn’t make good comforters.)

(Faith didn’t feel like a good Viper.)

“That’s a horrible habit,” she said. “Can I have one?”

Dante handed her the pack and a flip-top lighter. Faith took one, lit it, and took a deep inhale. Held it. Let it out. She expected it to hurt, or to make her want to cough, but she supposed smoke belonged in a dragon’s lungs in a way that shifting couldn’t quite erase. It still tasted bitter in her mouth, making her grimace. Dante didn’t seem to notice the taste.

“How long have you been smoking?” she asked.

“A while,” he replied. At the silence that greeted him, he continued, “I did it a few times during my assimilation out of curiosity, but it’s become a bit of a habit since the Vegas mission,” he stumbled over the last phrase, and Faith resolutely ignored the flutter in her chest. (She supposed this meant none of them got out of that unscathed.) “Not often, though. And not usually around other people. But since none of us are supposed to be here, I assume you won’t go to my trainer and tell him about it. It’s… not great for one’s image.”

“Or your teeth.”

“You’re smoking, too, you know.”

“This is my first,” she said. Dante nodded and blew out a long stream of smoke. “So… is it helping?”

“Not really,” he said. “We can keep working, if you want to. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Uh…”

Faith had no idea how to respond to that. She didn’t understand much about siblings, but she remembered how much Dante had stressed to her to bring Ember back  _ alive.  _ Words that she ignored because Dante was young and inexperienced, and she had hated Ember on principal (Words she wished she had heeded). She knew he cared about Ember more than was safe, and it wouldn’t be easy to cast that aside.

For a Chameleon, he wasn’t the best at masking.

(He was a Chameleon, but he was  _ sixteen,  _ and no one should’ve expected him to handle that mission.)

(She was sixteen, too.)

“You can take some time,” she finally said. “Ember means a lot to you. This can’t be easy.”

“That’s not an excuse. Plenty of things aren’t easy. Algebra isn’t easy, but that doesn’t mean I refused to take the class during my training,” he said. He took another long drag and let it out. “Are you going to kill her?”

Faith blinked. “That’s… blunt.”

“Talon wants my sister dead. I think I’m allowed to be blunt.”

“I…” Faith paused. She was officially allowed to kill Ember. She didn’t need Dante as an ally, not really. She was better at killing than she was at trying to convince a hot-headed menace to come back to an organization that she hated.

But thinking about just  _ killing  _ her made Faith feel crawly inside. She thought about everyone she had met, how strange they had acted, how the rogues had been merciful even though they shouldn’t have been, and couldn’t for the love of her understand it. She hadn’t known that had even been an option. It  _ wasn’t  _ an option for a Viper. But she was…so,  _ so _ curious. 

She had questions, and she knew that Talon wouldn’t answer them in a thousand years (she knew she was a Viper, so she wouldn’t  _ get  _ a thousand years).

“I...” Faith started. Dante kept staring, silent. “I could. It would be easy, this time around. But I don’t think I will.” She pursed her lips. “I nearly caught her, once. I found her, and Cobalt was gone, and I… hesitated. Lilith warned me that it could happen every now and again, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I didn’t bring her back.”

“You got close to her?” Dante asked. Faith nodded. “Do you know how she’s doing?”

Faith looked over Dante. The first time she had met him, he had talked about Ember with a certain detachment, barely ever using her name. It had been personal, but he had been trying for it  _ not  _ to be. Now…

“How do you care about her so much?” she asked. “It seems exhausting.”

“It… is. It’s really exhausting. But it’s not really a choice.”

Faith snorted. “Sounds horrible.”

Dante put out his cigarette on the gravel and lit another one, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted (She felt exhausted).

“The rogue underground is a parasite to Talon, but they’re loyal to each other,” Faith said. “And they seem nice to her. She’s learning the medic trade. She’d… make a really bad Viper.”

“Talon doesn’t think so.”

Talon thought that she, Dante, and Mist could take on the leader of the rogue underground and win.

“What do you think?”

“I had hoped she’d be a Gila,” Dante said. “She’d be good at  _ that,  _ other than the fact that she’d have to follow orders. But she’d make a decent Viper, with enough training. And she was trained by Lilith. I hear she’s really good at what she does.”

“The best,” Faith agreed, because Lilith  _ was.  _ She was everything Faith wanted to be. Smart, efficient, and ruthless. Someone who didn’t hesitate. If Faith had gotten all of her training from Lilith, instead of getting reassigned halfway through…

“Are you two  _ smoking? _ ”

Dante hastily put out his cigarette on the gravel, and Faith followed suit after some hesitation. Mist came over to them and snatched the box out of Dante’s hands.

“Hey, I paid for those!”

“From who? A drug dealer? You do  _ not  _ look twenty-one, Mr. Hill,” she said. “You’re smarter than this. Both of you. Just because dragons are built for smoke doesn’t mean we’re built for nicotine.”

“That sounds distinctly like none of your business, Miss Anderson,” Dante said dryly. He took off his suit jacket and folded it on the porch railing before following her back inside, pretending that everything was fine and he was ready to work again. Maybe he was good at masking, after all.

“It’s Agent Mist,” Mist corrected. She rolled her shoulders back and sat down. “Can you keep going?”

“Are we going to try to bring Ember back to Talon alive?” he asked. 

Mist looked at Faith, eyebrows raised, waiting. Faith knew her answer— one answer would make an ally leave, the other would make him stay— but she gave herself one more chance to debate if she’d actually be  _ honest  _ about her answer.

Killing Ember would be so easy, and bringing her back alive would be so hard. But dammit, there was something that Faith hadn’t even been aware of, and she wanted to  _ understand.  _ She wanted answers, and she didn’t care where she found them (she knew they wouldn’t come from Talon).

“I won’t kill her,” Faith said, and she meant it. “Who knows. I got pretty close to getting her back just by talking to her. I can try that again.” She wasn’t great at talking, but if she made Ember see her as sympathetic, see her as confused, then she could get an opening.

(She  _ was  _ confused.)

Dante gave a short nod and sat down, like that was the end of the conversation. Like he trusted Faith with his sister’s life, and like the fact that Faith said she wouldn’t kill Ember meant that Ember wouldn’t die at the hands of Talon. Like nothing in his life would change, knowing what he did.

“Can I have my cigarettes back?”

“No.”

~***~

The three of them ended up working the entire twelve hours, even though it meant Dante and Mist would get no sleep before work. Neither of them seemed mournful at that fact. Faith had a lead in the form of one  _ Spencer Holland,  _ who had apparently worked with Griffin in Talon and probably kept in contact when they went rogue. He would be much easier to find than Cobalt, who was so off-the-map that Mist and Dante combined couldn’t find  _ anything  _ about him when he was working for Talon.

“We’ll meet up in two weeks assuming nothing changes,” Mist said. “Even with Holland, you might not get a straight shot to Cobalt. So… same place, same time?”

“I have nothing better to do,” Faith shrugged. “Do you, Mr. Hill?”

“Nothing I can’t do at a different time,” he said with a shrug. “It’s been… nice, actually, getting away from the project for a few hours. Even though I’m going to have to refrain asking any questions about Ember until then. Are you sure we can’t try to figure out who’s in charge of bringing her back?”

“I mean, she’s a rogue who wouldn’t be considered high-threat, there’s probably just a bounty—” Faith cut herself off when Mist kicked her in the shin. “The bounty’s for alive captures, too. Probably.  _ Ow. _ ”

“Thanks for that information, it’s very reassuring,” Dante said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Faith winced slightly. She could kill people without consideration, but the comment did make her feel a little bad.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking,” he said softly. “What is it like, working without Talon’s direct supervision?”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Thinking of planning a vacation?”

“ _ No, _ ” Dante straightened. “I’m just… I’m curious. I’m privy to the world of corporate deals and Talon’s long term projects. Probably always will be. I have no idea what it’s like to work like you.”

_ Work like a rogue, you mean,  _ Faith narrowed her eyes. She’d have to keep an eye on Dante— she couldn’t tell if he was asking because he was trying to figure out if she’d desert Talon, or because he was considering it himself.

“I don’t think about it much. It’s mostly a race to track down your twin so I can go  _ back  _ to Talon,” she replied. “But I’ve met some interesting people along the way. There was a nice lesbian couple who let me crash at their house… what project are you working on, anyway?”

Dante shrugged, crossing his arms. “A scientific advancement. Trying to get more soldiers in the fight against St. George.”

“You don’t like it?” Faith asked.

“I like it fine.”

“You seem uncomfortable.”

“Well, it’s been a long night,” he said. “We should probably go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Mist stood, pulling something out of her bag. “But, with everything going on and our semi-legal project, I thought it would be good to keep in contact. So.” She held up two burner phones. She handed one to Dante and tossed the other to Faith. “I have one for myself, too. Paid for in cash. They’re as untrackable as phones can get, and only have numbers to the other phones. If we keep it a closed system, it should be safe. Kapeesh?”

Faith flipped it open, mildly impressed with the foresight and how casual Mist was about admitting that their mission wasn’t Talon-approved. It had two numbers, already labelled  _ Dante  _ and  _ Mist,  _ along with a group chat.

“You called the group  _ Kidnap Ember Squad?”  _ Dante asked.

“Yep,” Mist said. “C’mon, Mr. Hill, I have a nine-hour drive ahead of me, and you’re only driving for three of them.”

Dante and Mist left together to go back to Talon, while Faith stayed seated with nowhere to go back to. She  _ didn’t  _ think about the fact that she was working outside of Talon very often— it was much easier to focus her energy solely on her mission— but it had been different, having her own mission and her own rules. Meeting Jenny and Laticia had been nice in a way that was unacceptable in Talon. 

Even in Vegas, staying with the rogues for a few hours, Ember trying to give her whatever meager comfort she could, had been…

Faith shook herself. She was going to find Ember. Even if she wasn’t at a place where she could capture her, she’d  _ find  _ her within the next two weeks. Maybe if they had a civil conversation, Faith could put whatever confusion she had to rest, and she could go back to trying to murder her rival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's the Kidnap Ember Squad right now, but they all have some things to work through. It's fine. They're fine. No issues here.
> 
> Again, this is one of my well-loved chapters, so any reviews would be greatly appreciated. :)


	11. Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Etra! Extra! Local asexual tries to write romantic undertones in-character, wonders if it's over-the-top or if JKags wrote the love-triangle like that because it's a genuine allosexual experience. Uses ace-coded character as a crutch in order to stop any romance-heavy scenes before they begin. (Thank you, Wesley)
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter 11, it's longer than usual, you're welcome.

They moved to their Baton Rouge safehouse, which, turned out, was  _ not  _ in Baton Rouge, but a small town fifteen minutes outside it with nothing but a post office, small convenience store, and a very sad looking library. And  _ so many _ churches. More churches than any town needed.

Their safehouse was one of those churches.

“The minister was part of Talon since birth. We got him out six year ago, and he took a lot of comfort in religion. I don’t trust him much, but he has a solid identity and everyone in town knows him as legit, so it’s good when a hatchling needs a temporary place to stay or we need to lay low for a few… how long should this take?”

“As long as it needs to,” Wes said, rubbing his wrist. “Griffin is good at making friends, and if they’re willing to give information to him then they’re compromised. They need to be moved somewhere where they won’t  _ get  _ information.”

Ember groaned. “It’s been  _ three days. _ ”

“And I’ve only been allowed to  _ work  _ for one of those days. If you have an issue, take it up with the bloody nursemaid.”

“You were hallucinating, Wes,” Riley rubbed his temples. “And just because you’re not running a temperature anymore doesn’t mean you’re not sick, so you’re still on thin ice as it is.”

“Nursemaid.”

“You’re still on a fucking IV!”

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Wes asked pointedly at Ember, who had looked away from the world’s most boring anatomy textbook for exactly thirty seconds. She thought that he’d be more hands-on after he let her put in a  _ butterfly needle,  _ but it was back to  _ Clinical Anatomy, Unit 4, Chapter 18: The Cardiovascular System,  _ which Wes had told her to outline and summarize coherently. Embers notes had always been horrible. She usually ended up studying off of Dante’s notes back in New Mexico.

God, she missed Dante. Maybe if she had been able to talk to him, if she could’ve given him more than two minutes to decide to leave his entire life behind, then things would be different, and it would be them against the world instead of them against each other. She had friends in Riley and even Wes, she  _ knew  _ that, but there was still a gaping hole where he was supposed to be.

“Where are you on the list?” Riley asked, leaning over Wes’ shoulder.

“I’ve been going over Holland’s record, tried calling him. He hasn’t picked up. I don’t like him. He was too chummy with Griffin back in Talon, and that’s something that  _ sticks _ .”

“Wow, you’d almost think you were a people person.”

“Humans had an entire different sublevel of politics in Talon that was completely under the radar. I would’ve died if I didn’t understand it at least a  _ bit _ .”

Riley winced, pulling at a lock of hair as Wes kept working. They had a corkboard taking up most of the table, the names of everyone in the organization scattered around in a way that Ember couldn’t understand for the love of her but Riley and Wes could talk about easily. Her eyes kept going back to Riley, his hair falling over his face, golden eyes sharp and glinting, just like they had in Crescent Beach.

She went back to her anatomy book. Now was  _ not  _ the time.

“We can call back some of the juvies. Dragons raising dragons, they stay in the organization, we keep them safe, they keep the kids safe, no human involvement at all.”

“Most of our kids are  _ way  _ too good at hiding for us to call them up again.”

_ Blood is important. I need to know about blood if I want to deal with sepsis. _

It felt like Wes was shoving her at a book to avoid actually teaching her. To be fair, his fever had broken barely twenty-four hours ago, and he was trying to work on more time-sensitive tasks, but it stung. She thought he was starting to stop hating her. 

“We’ll implement that when our current kids get older. They’ll have the choice to leave or to look after younger dragons,” Riley muttered. “How long should implementing that take?”

“Not too long. Until then, though…”

Ember groaned and buried her face in the textbook. 

“Are you okay, Firebrand?” Riley was smirking. She could  _ hear it.  _

“This is so boring.”

“Let me see,” Riley picked up the book and scanned the page, eyes widening slightly. “Wow, you got this far? Wes, are you trying to run her into the ground?”

“If she can’t get through an Anatomy textbook, she can’t dig a bullet out of your ribcage,” he said. “She needs to read through that and the PDF of draconic anatomy, and  _ I  _ need to hold down more than saltines, and then I’ll teach her more hands-on.”

“You’re a cruel teacher.”

“You’re just bitter that you suck at Javascript.”

Riley snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well, once Professor Higgins over there releases you from studying, how about we go up to the sanctuary together and work on your other end of training? I know you’re getting cabin fever. Punching me in the face might help.”

Riley smirked at the last part, and Ember’s face went hot. Her  _ other  _ end of training, as he called it, had somehow become her go-to whenever she was getting frustrated with her current path in life. She didn’t want her only asset to be killing. She wanted to be a medic. But she also knew she needed to know how to kill, because she was a rogue. And sparring with Riley was, admittedly, fun.

Being with Riley alone was, admittedly, something she always looked forward to.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she said. Riley’s smirk melted into something less sharp-edged, and Ember realized how easy it would be to lean forward, just a little, just enough to—

“Riley, I could use your help with our underground,” Wes interrupted tersely, like he knew  _ exactly  _ what was going through Ember’s head.

Ember grimaced as Riley gave her book back and sat down next to Wes again, throwing an arm over his shoulders as they talked over what to do about Holland. Her chest ached. They were stressed and exhausted, but at least they were stressed and exhausted together.

She missed Garret. And more than she missed Garret, she missed her twin.

“I’m going to go upstairs and study. This place is cramped,” she said. Riley nodded, and Wes gave a half-hearted wave with his good arm. Ember took her textbook, shoved her half-finished outline in the pages, and left for the sanctuary. The church safehouse, as safe as it was, being hidden behind a bookshelf in a basement, was obviously made to temporarily house one person. Or two people, if they had lived together for twelve years and had forgotten all concepts of personal space. The sanctuary was also small, but less so, and the stained-glass windows were admittedly pretty. It was quieter, too. Ember could sit in the middle of the aisle with her textbook and not be disturbed by the sheer amount of stress in the room.

_ 18.1, an overview of blood… 18.2, formation of the elements… 18.3, erythrocytes, 18.4, leukocytes and paletes… _

Ember had to admit, however reluctantly, that there was a certain sense of accomplishment in the fact that she now read through a paragraph of medical terminology without breaking a sweat when two weeks ago she was reading about the basics of homeostasis. By no means was she an academic, but apparently she was capable of picking information up quickly, when she actually wanted to. There was pride in that.

She wondered if Dante would be impressed if he saw her.

“Is there a preacher I can talk to, or are we the only people here?”

Ember froze, but only for a millisecond before she jumped to her feet and spun around, eyes wide. She didn’t have a gun on her, or a knife, but she couldn’t just shift in a  _ public church. _

Faith didn’t move. 

Ember hadn’t seen Faith in three weeks, but it seemed she hadn’t forgotten much of the girl from Vegas. Her hair didn’t fall in her face anymore, instead kept in a tight bun that didn’t hide rust-brown eyes for the burn spanning from her forehead to the edge of her cheek bone. Her stance was grounded and secure where it had once been scared, and she was wearing similar clothing to what Ember wore whenever she was trying to conceal a Viper’s suit.

How had she  _ found them? _

She held a gun loosely at her side, but didn’t raise it. Ember distinctly remembered a similar situation, where Garret had a gun on her, and she was at his mercy until she could get close enough to disarm him. 

Faith was a Viper. Ember doubted she’d fall for the same stalling tactics.

“I’m not here to kill you, believe it or not,” she said, even though she still had a  _ gun.  _ “I’m here for a conversation. Nothing needs to get violent unless you make it.”

“That’s reassuring, coming from you,” Ember growled.

“Thanks?” she furrowed her brow. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I just want to talk. If I start shooting, you can kill me all you want.”

Ember narrowed her eyes. Faith was tense, eyes set into a determined glare that was so different than the scared girl she had pretended to be or the grinning sadist she had been. She could have shot Ember in the back of the head easily. She could be attacking now. As little as Ember trusted her… talking seemed preferable to setting the church on fire.

Besides, she needed to stall. This was the last time she went anywhere without a gun.

“Okay. Let’s start with telling me how you found us.”

“Holland told me. He’s a member of your group, and easier to find than you were. He said you were meeting Griffin in New Orleans, and you had a safehouse near Baton Rouge, if things went south. Things went south, so… here I am.”

“Holland,” Ember said slowly, going cold. “And where is he now?”

“Dead,” Faith responded. “Though don’t take that too hard. Really, I saved you guys a trip to Wisconsin.”

Ember clenched her jaw, ignoring the chills at Faith’s words, spoken casually, like there was nothing wrong with murdering a man to get what she wanted.

“Am I supposed to thank you?” Ember asked.

“That would be nice, but I don’t expect it,” Faith responded. There was a long pause between them. Faith tapped the gun against her hip, eyes never leaving Ember. Ember’s muscles coiled under her skin, planting her feet less like Riley and more like Lilith. Faith’s mouth twitched when she did it, either into a smirk or a snarl, but it smoothed over before Ember could tell which.

“I lied,” she said simply. Ember raised her eyebrows. “About Dante. He didn’t give me orders to kill you. He told me to do anything short of maiming you to get you back home, but I’m pretty sure he’d embed a screwdriver in his temple before letting you die. He cares about you, you know. A  _ lot. _ ”

Ember tried to hide a sharp inhale at her brother’s name, but she doubted she had hid it well. She had never been a good liar, and Faith might’ve well have punched her in the face.

She had thought about what Dante and had done in Vegas more than she wanted to.

“How do I know you’re not lying now?”

“I hope you know your brother better than that,” Faith responded. Her glare slipped into something more neutral, more pondering. “I actually met with him a few days ago. He offered to help me track you down after I promised not to kill you this time around.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. I’m trying the diplomacy route.”

“That’s why you have a gun.”

“Yeah,” Faith’s brow crinkled, and her expression turned… almost  _ concerned.  _ Somehow, it was more scary than her nonchalant talk of murder. “Cards on the table, he’s not doing well. Don’t get me wrong, he’s  _ safe _ , Talon seems to be treating him quite favorably, in fact. He’s part of an important project that he refuses to talk about, because it’s confidential and he’s very loyal. He’s running himself into the ground for it, in fact. I think it might be on purpose. He seems like the type.”

“Fuck you.”

“You don’t think I’m telling the truth?”

Ember wanted to think Faith was lying, wanted to spit that in her face, but she knew her twin brother well enough to know he could and  _ would  _ burn himself out, especially if there was something else he was trying to avoid.

“Did anyone teach him about overworking?”

“I  _ tried, _ ” Ember said, and it sounded more annoyed than she wanted it to. 

“Oh, so he’s always been like this,” Faith said. “Huh. I don’t know if that makes me more or less concerned.”

“You didn’t track me down to talk about my brother,” Ember said. 

“I didn’t, but it seems like information you’d want to know,” Faith said. “You claim you love him, after all.”

Ember stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“A lot of things, all of them passive aggressive,” Faith said. “It’s hard, being a sixteen-year-old in Talon with half-finished training and the only person in your support network off with rogues. If I were you, I would’ve knocked him out and shoved him in the car before you betrayed Talon.”

“I… wait,  _ what?” _

Ember was having a very hard time following the current conversation. Faith was here, in their safehouse. By all logic, they should be trying to kill each other. But instead, she had just updated Ember on her brother’s mental health, and had just implied that Ember should’ve kidnapped her brother into going rogue. 

Which, admittedly, Ember should’ve done.

What was Faith  _ playing at? _

Faith, to her credit, looked just as confused about her statement as Ember felt. Then she glared at Ember with a vengeance.

“I dislike you. I hope you know that  _ very well, _ ” Faith said. “You ruined my life.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t tried to make me kill Garret, I would’ve gone back to Talon like a good drone,” Ember snapped.

“You ruined it before Vegas!” Faith snapped back. “I was a good student! I was Lilith’s  _ first  _ in ten years! And then you come in and she hands me off to another Viper to finish my training like I’m second best to some sixteen-year-old desert girl with a savior complex. She cut my training short by at least three months because of you! And then you go rogue and cut your brother’s training short by a  _ year,  _ and then they decide to send me up against you in Vegas like I  _ wasn’t  _ supposed to murder you.”

“You were given orders not to kill me!”

“ _ Dante.  _ Gave me orders. And he couldn’t make hard decisions because he is a  _ child  _ who Roth dressed up in a suit and told to go up against the one person in the world he cares about. I.  _ Hate.  _ You.”

Ember was even more confused. “So… this fits in with you trying to be diplomatic, how?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a Chameleon!” Faith snapped. “I’m a Viper, and by all rights, I should kill you.”

“So why don’t you?” Ember asked, shifting her footing, ready to shift and spring the moment Faith made her move. She didn’t want to kill her, to feel everything about her turn into a husk, but she would. She knew how. She had spared her once, and she knew she couldn’t do it again.

“I… don’t want to,” Faith said. 

Ember stared. She was  _ not  _ expecting that.

“Things are strange outside of Talon. I don’t get it. Hell, I don’t understand why you let me live in the first place, it wasn’t the smart choice. It would’ve gotten you killed in Talon. But your organization still managed to live for  _ twelve years. _ ” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand, and I don’t like that.”

Ember had completely lost track of this conversation. Faith seemed genuine in her words, but she had also seemed genuine back in Vegas.

Then again, this was better than setting the church on fire. And a stalling tactic was a stalling tactic, as nonsensical as it was.

“You know… kindness doesn’t always equate to weakness,” Ember said. “That’s how you get friends to watch your back, is to be kind to them. Uh… the entire medic trade is based around caring about people enough to help them.”

“Right, because you’re so Viper-averse that you decided to bury yourself in… a human anatomy textbook,” Faith said. “Is your hacker’s arm okay? I think I remember biting him.”

Ember winced. “You did. He’s pissed at you, but there weren’t any complications. He’s fine, now.”

Faith nodded. She didn’t look like she believed the lie, but she didn’t question further.

“He was obviously in good enough shape to take care of your burns,” she said dryly. “In all honesty, it makes me feel a bit better that you have them, too. It was…” she swallowed, lips twitching in and out of a snarl. “You’re a decent opponent. If a bit sloppy in your strategy. I’d suggest training with Cobalt. Mist speaks highly of his combat skills.”

Ember decided to take the compliment, even if it was reluctant and backhanded. That, at least, she could recognize— an enemy acknowledging the skill of their opponent.

“Unless, of course, you’d like to come back to Talon, meet with your brother, tell him that you love him and to lay off the cloverbrew… I could put in a good word with Lilith, maybe,” Faith said. “I’ll say you went willingly.”

“You’re doing this very transparently,” Ember said.

“I’m not a Chameleon,” Faith said. “Just… explain to me this, one Viper to another: Why  _ not _ go back to Talon? It’s safer. Your brother is there. And being a student of Lilith  _ does  _ get you prestige.”

Ember let out a long breath, taking a careful step back. During their conversation, she had put a church pew between them, and Faith had let her. She could run and try to alert Riley and Wes. She could try to fight Faith. Or she could… keep going with this increasingly convoluted conversation.

“I don’t want to spend my entire life murdering people without knowing why,” Ember responded honestly. “Never getting an explanation, never knowing an end-goal. The rogue population isn’t hurting Talon. They’re not stealing resources or… allying with St. George or anything. They’re just trying to find a different way of life. I don’t think they should die for that. And as a Viper, I’m guessing you don’t get to say  _ no  _ when someone in a three-piece suit says to kill someone who’s just trying to survive.”

Faith cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brow. “You’re interesting.”

“I have a moral compass,” Ember said. “Talon tends to find that inconvenient.”

“It tends to  _ be _ inconvenient,” Faith replied. “Things are easier, when someone points you at a mark and you don’t worry about who they are or what they’re done or what you have to do to make them a nonissue.”

“That’s pretty hard to manage, if you have empathy or compassion. I guess you don’t have either.”

Faith smirked, but her eyes were hard and guarded. “Nope.”

“That’s why you updated me on my twin,” Ember said. Faith’s smile faltered.

Ember reached for the bible on the church pew and threw it at Faith before grabbing a hymnal and jumping their meager separation. Faith sidestepped the kick that would’ve broken her sternum, but didn’t manage to dodge the  _ twack  _ of a hymnal to the head. She stumbled slightly before she sprang at Ember. Ember dodged out of the way and caught her hair, yanking her back and punching her hard in the throat with the heel of her hand. Faith’s breath rattled in her throat.

There was a sharp  _ crack,  _ and Ember’s leg nearly folded beneath her. Faith kicked her in the nose, sending her firmly to the ground and keeping her there.

She looked up at Faith, eyes set in a determined stare. She backed up several paces, gun still in hand, ready to move at any moment. Ember couldn’t believe she had  _ ever  _ thought the girl in front of her could pass as a Chameleon.

“You can go back to Talon,” she said softly. “It wouldn’t be easy, but you could go back. It’s a better offer than what Talon sent after you last time.”

Ember ground her teeth, stumbling to her feet. It felt like stabbing her thigh with a rebar, but if she was about to die, it would be on her feet.

“What? Sending you after us?”

“No. Sending Griffin to feed you false information,” she said. Ember went cold. “He was going to give you information in return for safety. Where he was planning on leading you? That would’ve killed you and Cobalt no question. Probably Wesley, too. And they’re going to try again, because that’s what Talon  _ does _ .”

Well,  _ that  _ certainly explained the fiasco in New Orleans. Except…

“Faith, where were you when Griffin died?”

“Killing Griffin,” Faith responded without hesitation. Ember’s eyes widened. “What? I can’t have you die before I can kill you.”

Ember took a breath. So that’s what it all boiled down to. The day in Vegas, watching Wes dig two bullets out of a Viper, their month of chasing Griffin and finding him dead in New Orleans. It was all a Viper, trying to become Lilith’s favorite student.

_ Riley, Wes… please get out of here safe. _

“Then kill me.”

There was a long, long silence between them. Two Vipers in a church neither of them belonged in, who had been circling each other ever since they knew each other’s names. In a way, if Ember were to die, she was glad it was at Faith’s hands.

“A life for a life, Ember,” Faith murmured. She straightened and lowered the gun slowly. Then she tucked her gun into the waist of her jeans, pulled the turtleneck over it, and gave a stiff nod. 

Ember could only find it in herself to stare as Faith turned and walked out the doors of the church.

~***~

Ember, during their fight, had bled on her anatomy notes. She decided that Wes could deal.

Apparently, a little thing called  _ shock  _ made her forget about the things that he and Riley were more likely to dwell on.

“So Holland’s dead, Faith killed Griffin, and now both of you are injured. Great,” Riley said as they started driving. Ember sighed and leaned against the window, trying to pay attention as Wes patched up the bulletwound as best he could in a moving car with a still-broken arm. “I’m… so sorry. We let our guard down. She shouldn’t have been able to get into town without us knowing.”

“How the fuck is your behavior  _ letting your guard down—  _ oh god, that’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Uh… a little? You probably shouldn’t look.”

“No.”

“Riley might be having a paranoid episode about now.”

“Shut  _ up  _ Wesley. I’m fine.”

“To Faith’s credit…” Ember clenched her fists as Wes injected something into her thigh. “She didn’t start fighting until I threw a bible at her. And she didn’t kill me or forcibly drag me back to Talon once she got me down.”

“Please shut up,” Riley said. It would sound calm, if she couldn’t see him white-knuckling the steering wheel. Ember looked away and let the car descend into a stiff silence. When she had hobbled down the stairs, he had done the closest thing to panic she had seen, and had them ready to leave in five minutes through an exit that she hadn’t known had existed. She wanted to remind him that she was alive, and that she was going to stay that way. She wanted to ask Wes what a paranoid episode was. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be  _ fine  _ around her when he obviously wasn’t.

Wes tapped her good knee. “Keep that icepack on your nose. We should stop in Baton Rouge. Big city, easy to get lost in, and I don’t want to stitch this one up in a moving van again.”

Riley gave a tight nod. 

“Ember, this was very,  _ very  _ lucky. You have a grazing wound. Didn’t hit any bone, didn’t hit an artery, so immediate care is simple. I’m putting a pressure bandage on it until we get to Baton Rouge and can stitch it shut properly. I injected you with a localizer so you won’t wish Faith aimed for the head every time Riley hits a bump in the road. I’ll walk you through what needs to done once we’re not in a moving car, but until then, keep the bag of broccoli on your face so I can set your nose when we get to a hotel.”

Ember sighed. “But now there’s blood on my shirt. Just like my notes.”

“Yeah, there’s blood on a lot of things,” Wes nodded. Ember closed her eyes and tried to ignore the ache in her nose. It had never been broken, before, and she was starting to think she preferred the bullet to the leg.

“Are you…” Wes groaned softly. “Bloody hell, I hate this. Are you okay about seeing Faith again?”

Ember swallowed thickly. “She talked about Dante.”

“She did.”

“I…”  _ Shut up, Ember.  _ Ember closed her eyes. She was a rogue, now, not a nine-year-old with bad dreams. Even if  _ bad dreams  _ had been part of her nightly routine for several weeks, now. She couldn’t fall apart the moment anyone mentioned her twin.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

“Great. That’s a relief,” Wes said, finishing with the bandage. He didn’t set her leg down, instead letting it rest on his lap. “Good to know that all of us are fine.”

It was a very quiet ride to Baton Rouge, after that. They settled in a one-room motel, where Riley immediately closed all of their curtains, swept the place for bugs and cameras twice, and set up motion detectors outside their door, window, and an air vent so small no one could hope to get through it.

Wes took that time to stitch Ember’s wound and put her nose back where it was supposed to be. He talked her through every step, making her name every material he was using and what it was for before he did anything. The wounds were simple, thankfully enough, and while she was tired from bloodloss, she wasn’t concussed, so she could follow his words.

“Lay off the leg for tonight,” he said simply. “I’m going to finish with security.”

“Thanks.”

Wes nodded and handed over the anatomy textbook.

“Fuck.”

The rest of the night was spent restlessly. She finished the cardiovascular unit and got her notes approved by Wes before moving on. Riley alternated between pacing and checking the security system. He talked to himself softly, from time to time, even though Ember couldn’t understand what he was saying. She had technically learned Spanish, but she had been horrible at it, and he was talking quickly enough that any non-native speaker would have trouble.

She looked back at her anatomy textbook and read over a line. She absorbed none of it.

So Faith and Dante were both looking for her. That was strictly bad, and that should be her biggest concern. Faith could’ve been lying about Dante’s work habits— she had been able to convince Ember she was an innocent hatchling, after all, this wasn’t a  _ stretch _ — and even if she wasn’t, Dante wasn’t Ember’s responsibility anymore. It didn’t matter that the thought hurt. He had made his choice, and Ember had made hers. They both had to live with it.

Faith was probably screwing with her head, anyway. She had used Dante against her back in Vegas, too.

_ She did a lot worse in Vegas, though. She would’ve killed you in Vegas. What’s different, this time? _

_ Can she really change? _

Ember shook the thought away. She wasn’t going to assume that everyone was capable and willing to change. That was a way to get dead. Not everyone in the world was like Garret.

_ Goddammit, don’t think about him. _

There were no safe trains of thought, apparently. She was  _ not  _ thinking of Garret, or the kiss they shared in the ocean, or how he had kissed her on the cheek before he walked out of her life forever. It wasn’t worth it. It was  _ so  _ not worth it. It had been a  _ month. _

Riley, by some supernatural feat, managed to bully Wes into bed, and then turned to her. She shut her textbook and pretended to get ready to sleep. He turned out the lights. Walking across the room took eleven steps, which she tried to count as he paced them. 

“Estoy seguro, confío a Wes y Ember. Estoy seguro, confío a Wes y Ember. Estoy seguro, confío a Wes y Ember. Estoy seguro…”

Ember, by some miracle, managed to fall asleep to Riley’s soft voice.

~***~

The alarms didn’t leave her groggy, so apparently she had to amend  _ sleep  _ to  _ doze.  _ It made it easier to grab the gun from her bedside table and stand on her good leg, though. Wes was already up and checking the security, Riley beside him, body situated between him and the door.

“Faith?” Ember asked.

“Two people, coming towards our door,” Wes said. “Could be nothing, or… no it’s not.”

There was a knock on the door. It sounded way too polite to be a Viper or St. George, but no one was supposed to know where they were. Anyone who could find them was a threat until proven otherwise.

“Wait, I recognize— oh, bloody  _ fucking hell. _ ”

“It’s Garret.”

Ember froze. She knew that voice. That was  _ definitely  _ Garret’s voice, no doubt. But he was gone, he had  _ left,  _ and no one was supposed to know where they were, let alone someone who had left them a month ago and said he wouldn’t be coming back.

He was back. He was just on the other side of the door.

Riley cocked his gun and pointed towards the door.

“Who’s your friend, Garret?” he called.

“Wait, Riley,” Ember hissed, grabbing his arm. Riley didn’t move his aim, or even look at her. “It’s Garret. We know Garret, he saved our lives back in Crescent Beach—”

“Who’s your  _ friend,  _ St. George?” he repeated.

“You may call me Jade,” came a calm, accented voice. “I’m not your enemy. I’m a Shen-Lung from the Hua Shan mountains who found your friend in London. It’s an interesting greeting, Westerners have. Do you always talk on opposite sides of doors?”

“A Shen-Lung, that’s great,” Riley muttered before raising his voice. “Nice try. I’ve tried to talk to Shen-Lungs, and they don’t leave their temples, let alone their country, let alone travel with  _ ex-soldiers.  _ Try again.”

“Riley,” Ember whispered. “Maybe we can hear them out. I know you don’t like Garret—”

“This has absolutely nothing to do with liking him. Garret could’ve gone back to St. George, or to Talon. Miss  _ Jade  _ could be conning him to get information or access to something. They shouldn’t be able to find us in the first place, you don’t think  _ that’s  _ suspicious?”

“Wes, talk to him.”

“You act like I don’t completely approve of this course of action,” Wes said. He was on his feet, laptop already packed away, eyes darting around in the way Ember used to think was nervous. He  _ was  _ scared, she knew better than to think otherwise, but he was more focused on calculating what they had time to grab and what to leave behind if bullets started flying.

“I’ve been stalking the Patriarch of St. George. Jade was doing the same thing ever since her temple was ambushed,” Garret said calmly, probably because he couldn’t see the gun pointed at the door. “I have information that I really need to share. Is  _ that  _ more believable?”

Riley clenched his jaw hard and took a breath. He took his finger off the trigger, but still kept his aim steady.

Ember pursed her lips. Then, ignoring Riley and Wes’ protests, limped as quickly as possible to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. 

Garret’s eyes widened slightly before his entire body seemed to soften in front of her. And it  _ was  _ Garret, staring at her, with wilder hair and an unfamiliar dragon beside him, but still Garret. Someone she never thought she’d see again.

He smiled.

“Hey, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took Garret 33,000 words before he came back to the group. Good job, Garret. Now I have to figure out what the hell I need to do with the love triangle sitting over in canon, mocking me.


	12. Concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shoutout goes to HeirofChaos for reviewing and inadvertently reminding me that it was the week-end and I needed to update, because I've officially lost all sense of time and have thought it was Thursday for like... four days, now.

The building had two security cameras, alarms on every window, and electronic tags on every item. Faith almost felt  _ bad  _ for them. All it took was a well-aimed rock, lockpicks, and a magnetic tag remover that was in the building itself, and Faith had her merchandise.

She slipped on the trenchcoat and pulled its hood up. Then she walked out the way she came. She deserved a little victory.

This town, she knew, housed three major companies owned by Talon, twenty-two minor businesses, and had complete control of the police, city politics, and medical field. For every business that Talon owned or owned by proxy, they had control over their security feed, meaning that it took no effort to track anyone through the city. By all logic, as someone who didn’t want to go back to Talon, she had no business in this area. She didn’t have a lead. She had purposefully  _ lost  _ her lead, actually, for something as stupid as repaying an act of pity. 

If Talon caught her, she wouldn't be allowed back into the field for  _ decades.  _

And yet, she was in this town. And she was working with two Talon agents.

Mist was hard to get a read on— she was the oldest out of the three of them, with the most information about Talon, its agendas, and how it worked. She was obviously smart and accomplished in her field, to be as confident as she was. Yet, she was perfectly fine with helping Faith, even though she had been told to bury the mission, and she didn’t have any personal stake in the matter. She was withholding information about Griffin’s death for Faith’s sake. That didn’t speak of true loyalty to Talon. Faith had no idea what she  _ was  _ loyal to, if anyone, and that was dangerous. Dangerous for Mist to rub shoulders with a Viper, and dangerous for Faith, who was accumulating quite a debt for someone who Talon wouldn’t want her to associate with.

And then there was Dante, who was a bit easier to read, despite being a Chameleon. He was young, ambitious, and desperate for Talon’s approval. He was willing to go far for it, as proven by selling out his sister and working on an unknown project that he appeared to be uncomfortable with. He was willing to do anything, it seemed, except let his sister die. That was a bit more straightforward than Mist, but still dangerous in its own ways. It made him unpredictable. In her current situation, a strong loyalty to Talon could get complicated the moment he decided she was becoming a liability to the organization  _ or _ to his sister.

So, in short, she was making a horrible decision.

She raised her arm and knocked on the apartment door. “Pizza Delivery!”

She had to wait exactly 3.5 seconds before the door was wrenched open, none other than Dante Hill behind it. He was still in a three-piece suit despite it being 9:00, but the circles under his eyes were more pronounced without concealer, and the look of sheer shock and indignance was enough to make him look like a sixteen-year-old instead of… whatever he was trying to be.

“ _ Faith?” _

“Can I come in?” Faith asked. 

“What?”

“Can I come—”

“How do you know where I  _ live? _ ” Dante hissed, opening the door wider so Faith could enter. It was an expensive space he was living in. Pre-furnished, open floor plan, plenty of windows and a balcony. The best Talon could give their newest Chameleon. It was spotless, too, like he had a maid. Or maybe he just liked to clean.

“You’re easier to track down than Mist,” Faith said in place of an explanation. “She’s a Basilisk. Talon doesn’t like anyone knowing where they live.”

“Did  _ anyone  _ teach you about social boundaries?”

“I’m a Viper. I don’t have much use for them,” Faith said. She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs, threading her fingers at her knee. She nodded expectantly at the armchair nearby.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re using every tactic to take control of a room,” Dante asked, raising an eyebrow. He shook himself and sat beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulder. “Please remember that I’m a Chameleon. I know the same tricks you do. While I’d generally be flattered that you’re taking so much effort to get something from me, you just willingly waltzed into my apartment at 9:00. If you need something from me, you can ask. No posing necessary.”

“You’re a very strange Chameleon, then,” Faith said.

“It’s been a long day,” Dante responded.

“I’d say. You look exhausted.”

“I bet you say that to every boy,” Dante smirked. Faith snorted. “You don’t look too good yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long… week.”

Dante winced sympathetically. “Seriously, though. You better have a reason for coming here. Talon would want me to report you the moment I saw you, and they outright told me to forget about the Vegas mission. So...” Dante looked at her expectantly. “What couldn’t wait?”

Faith shrugged. “Free food?”

Dante stared at her. Faith stared back.

Truth was, she wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing. She could’ve, and  _ should’ve  _ taken Ember back to Talon, or killed her, or  _ anything  _ other than leaving her to run off with rogues. Again. Diplomacy obviously didn’t work (she had already known that, because Ember’s twin was a damn  _ diplomat  _ and couldn’t drag her back), so she should’ve fallen back to something she was better trained for: violence.

(She shouldn’t have let Ember talk, because she started talking about questions that Talon couldn’t— wouldn’t— answer, and empathy that Faith wasn’t supposed to have.)

(She shouldn’t have ran to Dante of all people, who she barely knew. She wanted nothing to do with the Hill siblings.)

(Except.)

“I can make you pizza bagels,” Dante offered. “I’ve already eaten, and I have work that I’m going to do until you decide what you want to tell me.”

“You’re very blunt for a Chameleon,” Faith said.

You approached me. I don’t need to wheedle information out of you, I just need to wait,” Dante said, standing. “Pizza bagel?”

“Sure.”

Dante made pizza bagels with minimal fanfare, which surprised Faith— she hadn’t expected him to actually give into her request. He gave her permission to watch TV and headed into a different room, leaving the door open. Faith didn’t turn on the TV. She ate her pizza bagels in silence, mulling over why she was here, other than the genuineness of having nowhere else to go and not wanting to sleep in another stolen car. Dante had a  _ nice  _ setup. He probably had a guest room. She wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch, either.

Faith knew she didn’t really want to talk to Dante. Faith knew who she wanted to talk to, but she was a Basilisk in an unknown location who wouldn’t take kindly to a Viper five years her junior tracking her down. She was harder to get a read on, and already had Faith in her debt.

(Faith knew who she wanted to talk to, but she was a  _ rogue  _ who had thrown a Bible at her and punched her in the throat.)

She finished the bagels and swept through the apartment, just to make sure there wasn’t anything listening in on their conversation. Not that she thought Talon would spy on one of their own, but Talon, she knew, would do a  _ lot  _ of things. Making sure the sixteen-year-old with a missing twin wasn’t thinking about joining said twin seemed like something they’d do, because they were  _ obviously  _ paying for the place.

Faith didn’t find any bugs. She found coffee, more mugs than plates, chewed-on ballpoint pens, ballpoint pens that had trademarked symbols and were probably stolen, and so much lack of personality it was honestly depressing. Dante obviously wasn’t planning on staying long. Faith’s room in her assimilation home had more keepsakes than this.

But it wasn’t her job to care about that. Dante Hill was a means to an end for her, the same way she was a means to an end for him. Both of them knew that, so there wasn’t any point in pretending otherwise.

She wandered into the study silently, where Dante was hunched over a stack of papers, laptop open. He was drafting an email to someone named  _ Doctor Olsen  _ about the state of V-17. Faith narrowed her eyes at the papers. They looked like data logs and medical records. Was he working to train hatchlings in their younger years? He’d be good at that— Faith remembered those days, and she knew that young kids liked teenagers more than adults. But he said he was working on an important project, like it was  _ special.  _ Training a few hatchlings wasn’t special. Training a few hatchlings wouldn’t get him the resources he had access to.

And he wouldn’t call a kid V-17. He’d use their name.

Dante sent the email and let out a long sigh before turning back to the papers, sifting through them, making notes and a few, occasionally turning back to the computer. He made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat when someone else emailed him— Mr. Smith, who offhandedly called him obsessive— but responded to it quickly and politely before turning back to his work. 

Faith squinted, trying to make out the words.

_ Training Status Update _

_ Agent Bane _

_ Vessels can respond to one and two word commands in English, but have no ability to speak or understand Draconic. Other than command words, they do not appear to comprehend or speak English. Certain command actions and words seem to trigger partial seizures in V-4, V-7, V-15. _

“Vessels?”

Dante shrieked and jumped from his chair, spinning around. Faith raised her eyebrows.

“Motherf— Faith,” he said. He took a breath, straightening properly. “Why are you in my room?”

“Finished my pizza rolls,” she shrugged. “What are Vessels, some sort of robot?”

Dante took another breath, and then jumped again as his laptop dinged. He looked over and groaned.

“Does this man ever  _ sleep? _ ” Dante whispered, reading over the email. Faith looked over his shoulder.

_ Dante Hill, _

_ CSD is not an uncommon disease among dragons, and it is of no shock that the Vessels are affected so commonly due to their accelerated growth. Unfortunately, as you likely know, there is no known cure, so the best we can do is work to prevent it in later generations. If you want to discuss this further tonight, I am not opposed to meeting at the labs to run through a few— _

Faith didn’t read beyond that, because Dante gave a full-bodied shudder and shut his laptop.

“Not a fan?” Faith asked.

“He’s fine. He’s good at what he does, and he’s been working on the project for all the years it’s been in the making,” Dante said. “We need him.”

“That doesn’t mean you like him,” Faith said. She took Dante’s wrist and made him face her. “What are Vessels?”

“They’re none of your concern,” Dante responded coolly.

“That’s no way to talk to a friend.”

“I’m a Chameleon. You’re a Viper. Neither of us have friends.” Dante pulled his wrist away and started putting the documents into folders, away from Faith’s sight. “I  _ am  _ going to respond to him. It wouldn’t be professional to do anything else. I’m just… taking care of other things first. So. Ready to tell me why you’re here?”

Faith admitted to herself that she wasn’t going to get anything out of Dante at the current moment. They  _ weren’t  _ friends, and she wasn’t going to try to con a Chameleon, let alone someone who was one of the few people on her side. 

“Information, mostly,” Faith said. “And I want to find Ember’s file. And Wesley’s. Those two are getting tight, I could use that to my advantage. The Vegas mission would also be good to have. Come on, let’s go back out to the living room. I have a feeling you don’t want me snooping in here.”

“I still need to email Doctor Olsen back.”

“Let’s go back out to the living room,” Faith repeated. She took him by the arm and pulled him out of the study, sitting on the couch yet again and making sure Dante sat beside her. She looked him over and tried not to let any emotion on her face. She had seen Ember upclose several times— genuine, solid, and admittedly gorgeous in all of her messy hair and burn scars. Her brother looked more like a doll someone had dressed up and abandoned when playtime was over. 

She probably didn’t look any better, with a Viper’s suit and too many scars for a sixteen-year-old. And if Dante Hill wanted to work himself to death, it wasn’t any of Faith’s business, so long as he waited until after Faith’s mission was done.

(Assuming she would ever finish this mission.)

(Assuming she could go back to Talon like nothing had changed after the mission was over.)

“Why do you know she and the hacker are close?” Dante asked.

“He’s the medic, too,” Faith said. “She’s learning from him.”

“Oh,” Dante nodded. He wrinkled his nose. “A medic. Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like her. It involves studying and patience, which are two things she doesn’t like.”

Faith shrugged. “She seemed decent at studying, last time I saw her.”

“She was always a  _ horrible  _ student. She’d never consider it two months ag— wait, last time you  _ saw  _ her?” Dante asked. Faith tensed. 

(This was certainly one way to tell him.)

You’ve had contact with my sister,” Dante said. It wasn’t a question, but her silence was still an answer. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. “Couldn’t have mentioned that first.”

“I couldn’t convince her to come back, and if I had resorted to violence, one of us would’ve died,” Faith replied. “So when things got violent, I backed off. I… didn’t follow them. Cobalt would’ve noticed and would’ve gutted me.” She pursed her lips, knowing what she had to say. “I’m sorry for failing. Again.”

There was a long silence.

“How is she?” he asked softly.

Faith thought over what to say. What would get the right reaction out of Dante, what was easiest to remember, what he would want to hear.

“Desperate not to lose what she’s made for herself, for one,” she said, because that was the truth. “She misses you.” Because that’s what he wanted to hear.

Dante let out a long breath. “She wouldn’t come back, though.”

“No,” Faith said. “She wouldn’t.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I shouldn’t’ve expected anything else from her. What’s the plan, now?”

“Well, I’ve read through the need-to-know information of Cobalt and Wesley,” Faith said. “They’re smart. Smarter than I am, however it pains me to admit it. My goal needs to be getting Ember alone and isolated for an extended period of time. The more I know about her, the easier that is. Right now, the only weak point of hers that I know of is  _ you.  _ If there’s any additional information that I can exploit, I’ll need everything I can get it. ”

She didn’t mention anything about her doubts and the times she hesitated. Ember spared her, so she spared Ember. That would keep her mind clear.

(Except Ember had left because she didn’t want to kill without question. She wanted freedom in a sense that Talon wouldn’t allow a Viper, because Vipers were machines in the eyes of the executives.)

(Faith wasn’t a machine, she wasn’t a sadist, and she wasn’t  _ insane _ .)

(Faith had questions.)

“Okay. How do you expect me to get it?” Dante asked. “I’m not allowed to ask after Ember anymore. And I’m  _ definitely  _ not allowed to ask after the Vegas mission.”

“I… don’t know,” Faith admitted. “Truthfully, I want to talk to Mist.”

“Yeah,” Dante agreed. “Why the Vegas mission?”

Faith shrugged. “Idle curiosity.”

Dante kept staring, expectant. Faith ignored him. And kept ignoring him. And kept ignoring him.

He finally sighed and rolled back his shoulders. “You’re a really nice person to work with, you know,” he said. Faith raised her eyebrows. “Don’t give me that. You’re blunt. If you want something, you ask. As someone who’s constantly surrounded by passive-aggressive politics, it’s surprisingly refreshing. Honestly, I admire that about you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“However, if you want me to be able to help you, I need to understand what your angle is,” Dante continued. “I know that it’s not in your training to trust anyone, let alone a Chameleon. But I’m asking you to  _ try  _ to give me a bit of trust, like I’m trying to do for you. And considering that I’m not supposed to be talking to you and you’re not supposed to be talking to me, nothing here will leave this room. So: what’s the idle curiosity over?”

The silence was back. And Dante Hill, the bastard, actually made sense. It was easy to forget he was a skilled Chameleon when he looked like someone had been blasting an airhorn in his ears for the past week straight.

“They sent three teenagers against Cobalt,” Faith said. “ _ Cobalt.  _ Who’s created the longest lasting underground in a century. For one hatchling who— I mean, I know she’s your sister, but she’s nothing special to Talon. It seems like they had to have another motive, or information they didn’t tell us.”

Dante nodded.

“That’s all. You can stop staring,” Faith said. “Chameleon.”

“Viper,” Dante said, a pleasant lilt to his voice. “So you think Talon is hiding something.”

“I… I guess I do,” Faith said.

“And if they are?” Dante asked. “What do you do, then? Confront Roth? Incriminate me and Mist?” His expression twitched. “Or would you simply disappear one day and Mist and I would never hear from you again?”

Faith could hear the implied meanings beneath minced words: 

_ Questioning if Talon has ulterior motives is dangerous.  _

_ I’m taking a risk by helping you. _

_ Would you go rogue, if you go digging and find something you don’t like? _

“I don’t know what I would do,” Faith said. “I guess it depends if they’re hiding anything.”

Dante gave a nod. “Have you told Mist of your suspicions?”

Mist was the one who had talked about these suspicions in the first place, but she wasn’t selling out Mist. She could admit that she was taking a risk by telling Dante the truth. 

“No,” Faith said. “I wasn’t even planning on telling you.”

Dante kept nodding, a bit of pondering concern making its way onto his face. Faith raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. Two could play the game, after all.

“If we’re trying to be blunt and honest,” he said, “Which I’m bad at, by the way. It would hurt for you or Mist to drop off the map. I know I haven’t known either of you very long, and neither of you have much trust in Chameleons, but I don’t have many people in my life that I... don’t have to worry about impressing or acting nice around. So it’s nice working with you. Speaking of people I  _ do  _ have to worry about, though… I need to email Doctor Olsen.”

“You really don’t like that guy,” Faith said.

“He’s fine,” Dante straightened, uncrossing his legs. Faith raised an eyebrow and let the silence stretch. “Don’t try to out-manipulate a Chameleon, Faith. We’re taught to recognize this stuff.”

He strode back to the study, but left the door open. Idly, Faith registered that he had to be incredibly stupid to let a Viper into his house and leave his back unguarded. (Incredibly stupid, she knew, or so,  _ so  _ lonely.)

She followed him and watched over his shoulder as he emailed Doctor Olsen back, saying that he was sorry he couldn’t make it in tonight because of previous obligations, but he’d be happy to discuss it further in the morning with the rest of the team. 

Doctor Olsen messaged back within three minutes. Dante groaned. Faith read that as well and wrinkled her nose. He was an insistent human, asking to meet with him privately, so they didn’t have to run anything through the rest of the team— clearing some basic tests with the project leader was easier than clearing things with the entire team. Besides, Dante was a bright young man who had good reason to take interest in the research, considering he had CSD as well (Faith had the distinct feeling Dante didn’t want her to know that fact). It would be easier to converse without prying eyes and recorded minutes.

“No wonder you hate him,” Faith said. Dante didn’t startle, so he knew she was behind him the entire time. “He’s creepy.”

“He’s not—”

“Hey. Free advice, from the closest thing you have to a friend,” Faith said. “That behavior?  _ Unacceptable.  _ He’s a human, and you’re a  _ dragon.  _ Even if you weren’t, he can’t demand shit out of you after you tell him no the first time.” She furrowed her brow. “What’s CSD?”

“Complex Shifting Disorder,” Dante said, grimacing. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s— no one really knows why it happens, yet. A combination of genetic, shifting magic and environmental factors. But there are complications when going from human to dragon form and vice versa. It ranges from minor skin tears to shattered bones, depending on the person.” He twitched. “I have a pretty mild case. I usually just have to pop a few ribs or a shoulder back where they’re supposed to be and am good to go.”

“Huh,” Faith replied. “So… a man wants to get you alone, off hours, to an isolated laboratory, where no one will know where you are, and you can’t shift well.” She paused, looking at Dante. “I’ll be honest, that points to murder.”

“It’s not murder,” Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s just… very advancement oriented. I think his last overseer let him bend the rules for the sake of quicker results, and I don’t let him do that as much. His last boss was probably older, too, so that helps nothing.”

Faith thought it was a pathetic explanation, but let it slide, because it wasn’t her job to care.

“Do you have any thoughts of how to get the files I need? You  _ did  _ say you have connections in Talon.”

Dante shook himself and nodded. “Right. I can get the public records of most rogues, but people will raise questions with Ember, and getting a full private record is a bit harder. I could probably ask for my own and see where they get it from, find who runs that place, and request it directly from them. I can email…” Dante paused. “Smith would probably be my best bet, but he told me to take a break before I burn myself out and not to pry into subjects that don’t concern me.”

“All good advice,” Faith said. “You  _ do _ look tired.”

“That’s just my face without makeup,” Dante replied dismissively. “It would be easy to link my private file to the project, since I’m the only person on our team with CSD, but then they might only give me my medical record. But we could still see where it came from… so that means I could talk to Roth, Doctor Olsen, or Bane.”

He had devolved into muttering to himself in a very non-Chameleon manner.

“Doctor Olsen is already on my back about the CSD, so I’m not talking to him— you heard  _ nothing _ — and Bane doesn’t like me, so… dammit, I need to talk to Roth.”

“You don’t like Roth?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s that I’m  _ sixteen,  _ and he’s two-hundred… something. It’s a bit intimidating.” Dante said. He stretched his fingers out a few times. “Okay. I need to email Doctor Olsen back, email Roth, go over the rest of this paperwork… and then I can go to bed. Great.”

“When did you get off work?” Faith asked.

“None of your business,” Dante replied. “I’m probably not going to get answers for you until tomorrow. Though this is technically the guest room, so…” he glanced at the bed that looked like it had come with the place, like every other piece of furniture Faith saw. It was pressed in the corner, scattered with more documents. “You can take my room, I’ll sleep here. use the shower, pillage my refrigerator, whatever. You should get some sleep.”

“You should, too,” Faith nudged his shoulder. It wasn’t concern, it wasn’t care, but she needed Dante Hill alive. And Mist would probably be disappointed if she let one of their team members compromise his own immune system.

(Faith could be a bit lonely, too.)

“Not tired.”

“Yes you are.”

Dante ignored her. He emailed back Doctor Olsen, using the same pleasant, but firmer language. He brought up Roth’s contact information and started on a draft to him, putting the potential it had for the  _ Vessel Project  _ above all else.

The Vessel Project seemed to be focused on making genetically grown soldiers to better fight the war against St. George (Like they were trying to replace Vipers with things that asked less questions.).

(Not like Faith was a good Viper, anyway.)

“I’m going to bed. I’ll set an alarm for 2:00. You better be asleep by the time I’m back up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faith: I'm not feeling concern.  
> Chapter Title: Concern.
> 
> Faith's emotional intelligence leaves much to be desired.


	13. Unease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed Yule, to those who celebrate. It was on Monday.

Dante wasn’t able to find any leads before work the next day. An unfortunate side effect of emailing someone at 11:00 PM. 

“You can stay in the apartment. Please don’t be seen by the neighbors. Or… anyone else,” Dante said. “I’ll be back at 5:00 or 5:30, and we’ll see what I have by then.”

“Okay. I’ll expect you then,” Faith said. “Just making sure: you’re not going to tell anyone where I am and force me to go back to Talon early, right?”

“And you called  _ me  _ blunt,” Dante snorted, smirking slightly. “No. I won’t.”

Faith noted that Dante had to be stupidly trusting to let a Viper alone in his apartment. That being said, she didn’t do anything that could hurt him, so maybe she needed to give him more credit. 

For most of the day, she tried to keep herself occupied.Despite that, she spent more time than she liked thinking through her and Ember’s interactions, both in Vegas and the church. She had been kind in Vegas, even when they were enemies. A good fighter, too, with good fighters backing her up— that soldier of hers who she was willing to kill for, who was willing to die for her. How she could’ve ever been considered for the Viper program was unfathomable. How she didn’t explode from so much empathy was a mystery, as well. Faith probably would.

Why did this mission have to be so  _ complicated?  _ She just had to catch Ember, bring her back to Talon, and be welcomed back as a proper, full-fledged Viper.

(Did she even  _ want  _ to go back to Talon?)

(Traitor thought.)

Faith ended up trying to find more information on the Vessel project out of sheer boredom. Dante, it turned out, was thorough in keeping his research away from prying eyes. She moved onto the next best thing: trying to find information on Dante Hill himself.

Things she learned about Dante Hill: He was a minimalist. There wasn’t any art on his walls, no personal touches. No diary, which was a shame. She found a box of desert quartz and other rocks, one of which was petrified lightning, but that seemed to be the only thing that was  _ his _ . She nearly pocketed it before she remembered that Dante was one of two allies and it would be best  _ not  _ to steal from him.

She found a stash of cigarettes on the balcony around 3:00 and considered smoking again. But she had worked to get her lung function back— She wasn’t going to sacrifice that for a temporary high.

Dante’s apartment was meticulously clean, and every cupboard was organized, including the pantry and the cleaning cupboard. It was pretty, she supposed, with its hardwood floors and open floor plan. All of the furniture was high quality, too. Much nicer than the barracks Faith had called home during her months of training. Talon really  _ did  _ like him. She hoped he could live up to that without burning himself to the ground— he was a good ally to have around.

Then again, he was only a good ally until she stopped being useful, so there was no use getting attached. He didn’t seem like the type to last long, anyway.

It was 5:40 when Dante came back home with a plastic bag that smelled like food, kicking off his shoes in the entryway and waving a greeting to Faith.

“I got pita burritos. Mine is the one with lamb and feta, so if you eat it, I  _ will _ kick you out. I hope I got something you like,” he said, setting it on the table and walking into his room.

“You also got… blue corn chips?” Faith said. “Ew.”

“Hey, don’t bad-talk blue corn!” he yelled back.

Dante came back out about five minutes later in slacks and a sweater, makeup still firmly in place. He snagged his pita and sat down across from her. She had to admit— Dante had good taste in cuisine. Other than blue corn chips.

“Roth emailed me back,” Dante said in lieu of any smalltalk. “Said that my medical record wasn’t pertinent to the project.”

“Ah,” Faith said. “Do you have another angle?”

“Yeah. We went back and forth a few times. I… actually asked to see Dr. Olsen’s employment record, to make sure he was qualified with what we’re doing. I don’t think Roth is happy with me, but he said that he could get it from me after he gets the scans from a place called  _ the Vault.  _ Ever heard of it?”

Faith shook her head. 

“Well, if that’s where employment records are, that’s probably where Ember’s files are. No luck with the Vegas mission, but we have to take what we can get,” he said. “So if we figure out who runs the vault, we can try to talk to them. See if that bypasses some of the red tape.”

“Behind Roth’s back?” Faith asked. Dante winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you really willing to risk that for the off chance I find Ember?”

“She’s my sister,” he muttered. “I know that doesn’t make anything better after what she did in Vegas, but if I can get her back, then that’s one less thing I need to worry about. What about you? You can still come back to Talon with little consequence. You don’t have to do any of this. And… I’m not ignorant about what happened, you know. I know she tried to kill you. She’s hostile, and that means you’re allowed to— to kill her.”

“I’m going to suffer consequences when I come back to Talon no matter what happens,” Faith said. “It’s just a matter of how many. I bring back Lilith’s other student, it grants me more leeway. And yes, we tried to kill each other, but I’m a Viper. Attempted murder isn’t something I can afford to take personally.”

“And what about your digging into Vegas? What do you think Talon is hiding?And what do you do if you find answers you don’t want?” Dante asked.

Faith took another bite of her burrito and thought over the question. Truth was, she wasn’t sure exactly what she thought Talon was hiding. She didn’t know if they were hiding anything at all. She didn’t know what her questions were, even though she definitely had them. 

She didn’t know how much she could tell a  _ Chameleon.  _ Who, from what Lilith said, sold out his own sister.

(God, what would Lilith think of her?)

(Did… did she  _ care  _ what Lilith thought of her?)

“It’s Talon,” Faith said as a response. “And we’re two sixteen-year-olds and a twenty-one-year-old. They’re probably hiding a lot.”

“Fair,” Dante admitted and stood, taking the corn chips with him. “I’ll try to dig up some information on The Vault tonight.”

“Of course,” Faith said. “You know… if you’re letting me stay in your house, you’re allowed to wear casual clothing.”

Dante looked down at his attire. “This is casual.”

“Liar,” Faith countered. “You went through human training. You  _ know  _ that’s business casual. I looked through your closet, so that fact that you own a pair of sweatpants —”

“You looked through my closet?”

“You left me unsupervised.”

Dante let out a long breath. “I’m going to find information on the Vault. I’m also locking my study door. If someone breaks in to kill you, don’t alert me.”

“Aw, I thought we were  _ friends. _ ”

Faith didn’t see Dante for the rest of the night.

~***~

“I talked to Mist.”

“You’re late— wait, what?” Faith stood, tensing. Dante was, in fact, three hours late and looked worse for wear, but that wasn’t her biggest concern. “You talked to Mist?”

“Texted. About you, actually,” Dante said, shooting her a glare. “You have a Viper after you?”

Faith blinked. She supposed she  _ hadn’t  _ mentioned that.

“I’m not a rogue,” she snapped. “If they find me, I’ll come back peacefully and explain myself. If they don’t, I find your sister, I turn her in, I come back peacefully.” There was a pause between them. “If you want me to leave, I understand. Hell, if you tell Lilith where I am, I won’t be particularly pissed. Though I’d rather you not, because I have a job to do.”

Dante shook his head, sinking into the chair and putting his head in his hands.

“No, I’m not doing that. Even if I definitely  _ should, _ ” he muttered. “We need to find the Vault, and  _ then  _ you’re leaving. A miscommunication could label this here as harbouring a fugitive, and I miss having the place to myself.”

Faith narrowed her eyes. “ _ That’s  _ a lie.”

Dante raised his eyebrows.

“You heard me.” She didn’t offer any further explanation, no matter how long Dante stared. She went back to reading the book she had scavenged from Dante’s study. He had the entire  _ A Little History  _ series, and she was slowly working through  _ A Little History of Religion.  _

Dante was still staring.

“Yes?” She asked slowly.

“Nothing,” he said. He stood. “I’m going to just... take a breather outside and get back to work.”

“You’re going to smoke, you mean,” Faith corrected, putting down the book. Dante glared at her. “Hey, I’m not here to judge or tell you that it hurts your image. I’d smoke, too, if I were you. Just thought that honesty might be refreshing for you. So, what are you going to do outside?”

Dante stared at her for a while, like she was a puzzle that he couldn’t solve. Faith let him.

“I’m going outside to chainsmoke,” he said. “Do you want to… join me?”

Faith shrugged. “Why not?”

They watched the sunset on the balcony, Dante sitting in the chair with perfect posture, Faith cross-legged on a throw pillow beside him, reading the rest of the book. He did, in fact, chainsmoke. He went through them without any regard for enjoying the high, or whatever people smoked for— more like his hands and his breaths were going as fast as his mind, and like he’d burn the cigarette at both ends if he could. He burned through five before he managed to slow down and take breaths between drags. She didn’t join in, unless one counted the second-hand. Looking at Dante, slowly relaxing until he could breathe without it shaking, she couldn’t help but think about Ember. What she was doing. What she would do if she could see her brother. Why she left without him.

(If it was worth it, to cut all ties and run.)

“You’re staring,” Dante noted, starting another cigarette. “If you’re judging, I request you do so inside. If you have a question, shoot.”

“Have you ever thought about going rogue?” Faith asked. Dante looked at her sharply. “I’m not going to  _ do  _ it, so stop looking so concerned. I quite like my life in Talon and I know what Vipers do to rogues. I just wonder if you’ve thought about it. I mean, you’ve had to, right? Ever since…”

“I considered it,” Dante said shortly. Faith raised her eyebrows. “In Crescent Beach. I spent about fifteen minutes debating calling Lilith versus going rogue with my sister. You see the choice I made, and I haven’t looked back since.” He didn’t offer any further insight. “You?”

“After I killed a human for the first time. It was a fleeting thought in the mind of someone high on adrenaline,” Faith waved it off. She wasn’t sure how much of that was a lie.

“Good,” Dante nodded. “Because you  _ can’t.  _ Cobalt’s underground would kill you, Talon would kill you, or St. George would kill you. Whatever questions you have aren’t worth your life no matter how much you want answers.  _ And  _ you would incriminate Mist and I, which would be a career ender for both of us. That’s a  _ lousy  _ way to repay us. Especially Mist. I have a personal stake in this, so any harm it does to me is one thing, but Mist is doing this because she wants to help  _ you.  _ Don’t go rogue.”

“Understood,” Faith nodded back. She continued reading. Dante continued smoking. They stayed like that for a while, until Faith finished the book and Dante looked calm enough to hold proper conversation. “Do you know where the Vault is, yet?”

“No. Work was busy today. Doctor Olsen and I had to go over test results.”

“For the Vessels?” Faith asked, and decided  _ not  _ to ask why work with Dr. Olsen made him stay three hours late. Dante winced. “They’re supposed to be secret, aren’t they?”

“They’re need-to-know until we work the kinks out of the system. So I’d appreciate you not talk about them until the testing is over,” he said, letting out a long stream of smoke. “At least they’ve stopped having tumors so much.”

“Oh.”

“Two weeks in, one threw up a fair pint of straight blood and keeled over. We did an autopsy, and found…  _ so much  _ cancer.”

“ _ Ew. _ ”

There was a long silence between them.

“Why did she go rogue, anyway?” Faith asked.

“I don’t know,” Dante replied. “We didn’t talk much that summer, and then she said she was going rogue, and then she did. I do my best not to think about it.”

“Why?”

Dante didn’t respond.

“Sensitive topic, then,” Faith noted. Dante nodded shortly. “Are you going to actually sleep tonight, or…”

“I have nineteen miligrams of nicotine in my bloodstream right now. It’s not likely,” he said.

“Is it helping?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Wait, do you want one? It’s polite to offer—”

“I do  _ not,”  _ Faith shut that particular offer down. “I’m glad you found something that works for you, but that soldier shot through my lungs, and I don’t want to compromise them any further.”

“Garret,” Dante supplied the name. “Ember’s…  _ friend. _ ”

Faith winced at the way he said it, and made a note  _ not  _ to tell him that Ember might have chosen this  _ Garret  _ over her brother back in Vegas. He didn’t need to know that. He still loved his sister, even if she didn’t know why.

(She did.)

Faith ended up leaving Dante on the balcony. She washed the scent of smoke off of her skin and changed into clean clothes that concealed her suit. Then, with some consideration, opened her phone and made a call to Mist.

“Yes, I told Dante about the Viper,” Mist picked up. “You and I know exactly what we’re risking. He didn’t. Now he does. I think that’s completely fair.”

“You’re a basilisk, since when do you guys care about what’s fair?” Faith asked. “But I’m not calling to bitch about that.”

“Good,” Mist said. “What have you called to bitch about?”

Faith sighed, sitting on the edge of the tub. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she had called. 

“I guess I just want to talk to someone without clinical anxiety,” she said. Mist snorted on a laugh.

“So you’re talking to a Basilisk?” she asked. “Man, we really did just find the three professions that have the most problems with retaining sanity. We need to enlist a Gila or something. They’re sane.”

“Yeah, tell me where we can find one we can trust when I don’t think any of us trust each other.”

“Rude,” Mist said. 

Faith rolled her eyes, even though Mist couldn’t see it. The line staticked as she thought. On one hand of the conflict, she had Mist and Dante behind her, trying to balance on a line that none of them could see. They were good at it. Too good for people who were aligned with Talon alone.

On the other hand, there was Ember, Cobalt, and whatever mission they were chasing. The mission that they chose. She couldn’t understand them for the life of her. (She wanted to understand.)

And then there was Talon and Lilith. The things she was supposed to have loyalty to.

(The things she…)

( _ Traitor. _ )

“I know that honesty isn’t anyone’s forte in this little group,” Faith said. “Fucking hell, I’ve only known you for a few weeks. But can you try to answer something honestly?”

“I can try,” Mist replied.

“What would you do if…” Faith paused. Collected her thoughts. “What would we do if Dante went rogue?”

There was a long pause over the line. Faith clamped down on the urge to assure Mist that Dante probably wouldn’t, because saying  _ Dante  _ instead of  _ Faith  _ to a Basilisk put him in danger even though it kept her safe. (She didn’t know how honest he had been about not looking back, anyway.).

(She didn’t know what she would do, if she found the wrong thing.)

“Do you think he’s going to?” Mist asked. 

“No,” Faith said. “But if he did.”

“Honestly,” Mist said, like she was trying to remind herself. “I’m not supposed to be talking to either of you. If he went rogue, I’d throw away my phone and wash my hands of this mess.”

“That’s not loyal,” Faith pointed out. “I’m a Viper. I should report that.”

“Probably. What would you do?”

_ Let him run. _

“He’s working in some prominent circles. They’d notice him missing within hours,” Faith said. “The other Vipers can handle that without worrying about personal involvement.”

“Okay,” Mist said, no judgement in her voice. “Good to know where we stand.”

Faith nodded. It was good to know that, and not to because she was a Viper and it was her job to threat asses. She already knew the three of them were walking a wire.

“Hey, do you have any idea what the Vault is?” Faith asked. She might as well try her luck, since she was already working with borderline traitors.

There was a long pause over the line.

“I do.”

“Huh.”

“Huh.” There was a silence. Then a very, very loud groan. “What do you want from it?”

“Really?”

“Dante’s not the only one with connections. No guarantees and absolutely no questions. Okay?”

Faith grinned. She didn’t know what angle Mist was playing, she didn’t even know what angle  _ Faith  _ was playing, but at that moment, they seemed to be playing on the same side. She could work with that. All three of them could work with that.

The three of them  _ would. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include more Mist interactions in this chapter than I did, but what can ya do? She'll get more screentime in later chapters, I promise.


	14. Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021, y'all!

Mist, for safety purposes, told her and Dante that she’d give them what she had during their next meeting. They promptly moved their next meeting to the next week-end rather than two weeks out.

Dante kept true to his promise of kicking her out of the apartment.

“Is it because I mocked the corn chips?”

“They’re blue corn chips, not chocolate covered pickles!”

Faith smirked, leaning against the doorframe and far into Dante’s personal space. Dante, to his credit, didn’t back away. “Just admit it was a  _ little _ fun having a roommate for a few days.”

“You snooped through my entire apartment and ate my food. It’s like getting every bad part of having another sibling with none of the redeeming qualities.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.”

Dante shut the door in her face. Faith noted that his Chameleon’s mask seemed to crack after forty-eight hours of little-to-no sleep. Good to know.

Faith spent the next two days circling their meetup cabin, trying to keep herself occupied. She discovered a local gang and debated the pros and cons of stealing everything they had. She broke into a winter cabin and slept there. She stole a notebook and tried to properly organize the information she had learned over the past few weeks.

She thought about Ember more than she wanted to.

She was happy, where she was. Or, maybe happy was the wrong word— she was  _ real  _ where she was. She didn’t have to make herself into anything more or less than who she was for these rogues. She didn’t appear to have any regrets about leaving Talon. Her only regret seemed to be that she hadn’t taken her brother with her.

Faith didn’t know what to think of that, because the more she thought about it, the more she was grateful that Ember hadn’t kidnapped Dante out of Talon. And she knew that she wasn’t grateful for reasons that benefitted the organization. She wasn’t even grateful for Dante’s sake. (Dante said he had never been good at being a brother, and Faith had never been good at being a friend. It couldn’t be a shock that they got along.)

(She wondered, too often, if she and Ember would’ve gotten along if their first meeting had been different.)

(Probably not.)

In the end, it was an uneventful two days. She arrived at their destination Friday evening and tried to set up a proper work space before the others came. She didn’t have much of her own information. Just what she had picked up from eavesdropping, tracking their past locations, and dragging out of Mr. Holland’s mouth. Overall, not enough to fill a notebook. Still, it was something. She wasn’t one to come to a meeting empty handed.

The door opened as Faith was starting to sift through the information she had collected. She looked up as Dante walked in and sat down across from Faith. He was still in a three-piece suit and had makeup on that almost hid his exhaustion, as if Faith  _ hadn’t  _ seen him go through half a pack of cigarettes in one sitting. She wondered who he was performing for.

“Sorry about our parting conversation,” he said diplomatically. “I realize I was impolite.”

“Chameleons are strange,” Faith said.

“Bane has a similar sentiment,” Dante replied.

“Bane?”

“Coworker,” he said, rubbing his temple. “Doesn’t like me. Anyway, I have paperwork, so I’m going to do that until Mist shows up.”

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” she asked. Dante snorted in lieu of response.

Whoever he was performing for, it wasn’t her.

Faith watched as Dante pulled a stack of papers out of his briefcase and began reading through them. They weren’t easy to read upside-down, but from the looks of it, it was status reports and financial work. Both things that were incredibly monotonous and Faith was grateful  _ not  _ to be a part of. Vipers didn’t do much paperwork.

Faith wondered what Ember would think, if she could see her brother. (She wondered what she’d think if she could see  _ Faith.  _ If they could sit down and talk properly, lay the past weeks in the open so she could put them to rest and—)

And she would bring Ember back to Talon, where she belonged.

(Would she?)

The door opened. Faith looked up, and Dante set down his pen, straightening his posture as Mist walked in.

“You two look like shit,” she said. Mist, Faith noted, did  _ not  _ look like shit. 

“I’m fine to work, I just had to stay at the office overnight,” Dante waved off the concern as best he could, even as a slight shudder went through his shoulders and hands. Faith narrowed her eyes. He glared at her. “What?”

“Were you alone?” Faith asked. “Or was a certain Doctor who you hate—”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Then what’s your problem with him?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Really? Are you scared of him?”  
“No.”

“ _ Kids, _ ” Mist sat down. Faith snapped her mouth closed out of pure instinct, and noticed that Dante went ramrod straightened, eyes averted and hand in his lap before anyone could so much as blink. “We met up here because I have some files Faith requested, but it seems there’s something to be addressed before we can get to that. Now, I’m not in the loop of this particular matter. So, could one of you enlighten me?”

“Are you doing the Lilith voice on purpose?” Faith asked.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Mist replied. “Or does Dante need to be the one to talk?”

Faith stared at Dante, as did Mist. Dante stared ahead, successfully avoiding eye contact with both of them.

“We aren’t friends,” he said evenly. “I don’t need to justify myself to you, nor am I here to seek counsel.  _ Yes,  _ I was working with Doctor Olsen last night. We were running some tests that took a number of hours to complete. Whether or not the tests are helpful is yet to be seen, but they left me generally tired and cranky. I took an hour off of work today so I could get here on time, and I’m not expected back at work until Monday. Satisfied, Faith?”

Faith dug her nails into the legs of her jeans, because she was  _ not  _ satisfied. Dante was a good Chameleon, she’d give him that, but it was obvious that he didn’t like Olsen, whoever he was. She didn’t like how the scientist talked in the emails, either. He sparked danger alarms in every way possible, and Dante was  _ ignoring  _ them. She  _ needed _ Dante if she wanted to get to Ember. (Dante was good to have around for other reasons, too.)

“This project you’re working on is the Vessel project, right?” Mist asked. Dante pursed his lips into a thin line. “I know about them through legal means, don’t worry. I spent last week elbow-deep in decade-old scientific research to make sure there weren’t any leaks. There were. The person responsible is now dead.”

“Ah,” Dante responded. “Yes. It is the Vessel Project.”

“Creepy,” Mist said with a nod. “You said you’re not here for counsel. Do you need it?”

“No.”

“Would you like it?”

“I’m not spilling my guts to a Basilisk, thank you,” he snapped. “Doctor Olsen is good at what he does and he’s been on the Vessel project since as long as it’s been around. I can handle myself.”

Mist stared at him for a long time, head tilted slightly to the wide. 

“Olsen, huh?”

“You know him?” Faith asked before Dante could respond. 

“No. but I could, if I needed to,” Mist said. She straightened. “You’re a smart kid. You know what you can handle. But if you ever  _ do  _ need counsel… I got myself into this mess, so I’m not about to back out. Call if you want help. Keep yourself safe, Mr. Hill.”

Dante gave a professional smile and nod. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Anderson.”

“Agent Mist,” Mist corrected. The room reeked of passive-aggression. “Anyway! I just finished my work for the week and am not needed back until Monday, and I have a lot of information to go over, so I’d say we get started.”

Dante cleared the rest of his paperwork, and Mist opened her messenger bag and brought out a manila folder, stuffed with papers.

“Ember Hill’s file,” she said. “A lot of it’s redacted, but we can get somewhere with it. I also brought—” she pulled out another file— “ _ All  _ of Griffin’s reports on the rogue underground.”

Faith blinked. And stared. “ _ How? _ ”

“I have contacts,” Mist shrugged. Dante was looking at Ember’s file like it had teeth. “Don’t sweat, Mr. Hill. Most of it’s basic information. You know, she was considered to be a Basilisk before a Viper, but they decided on Viper because… honestly, it’s unclear. They said she assimilated well in… Crescent Beach, I think?”

“Yeah, she had a boyfriend and everything,” Dante said.

“Did she have friends?” Faith asked. “Nice, human, not-St-George friends?”

“Yeah. Alexis Thompson and Kristin Duff. I’ve considered trying to get a tap on their phones, but I’m not supposed to concern myself with Ember anymore. And she’s not an idiot. She disappeared on them with no warning. She wouldn’t call them up a month later when she’s on the run from Talon,” Dante said.

Faith threw around the idea of kidnapping Alexis Thomas and Kristen Duff before she decided that Cobalt would be way too skilled with hostage situations, considering he probably had dealt with having hostages held against him as well as holding a hostage. The problem about fighting someone who had played two sides of the board was that he knew everyone’s tricks.

“Okay, then,” Mist said, taking out a section of files. “Let’s start on Crescent Beach. We can work backwards from there.”

~***~

“Do you think she might’ve told Thompson and Duff anything?” Faith asked. “You said she was planning on saying goodbye to Garret. Do you think we could get any information out of them if you call and say that your sister is missing?”

“Very unlikely. I don’t think  _ Ember _ knew where Ember was going when she went rogue. And not even Ember is impulsive enough to tell a few perfectly normal humans that she’s actually a dragon,” Dante responded. “Besides, doing that would involve putting me back in Crescent Beach, and I’m not allowed to be seen by anyone from there, with how quickly we had to clear out.”

“We could always kill them afterwards,” Faith suggested. Dante sent her a reproachful look. “What?”

“We’re not killing random civilians.”

“Why not?”

“Uh… murder is generally a last resort?”

“Sure, fine, but if it came down to killing them to get your sister back to Talon…”

“Just don’t involve me in your implications,” Mist took a long swig of frappuccino. “And before either of you wrecks ask, I’m not buying you coffee this time.”

“Oh. I can pay, then,” Dante offered to Faith. Mist groaned. “If you want some.”

“Iced espresso. Go.”

~***~

Ember had been a rebel rouser for a while. Her grades were average in every subject except for Spanish and a semester of astronomy— Spanish was subpar, and astronomy was nearly perfect. She had multiple disciplinary notices throughout her childhood for sneaking off unsupervised, shifting without permission, and a case of vandalism. She learned how to shift a full month before her brother.

Ember, Faith quietly noted, didn’t have Complex Shifting Disorder.

She combed over the notes from Crescent Beach the most— everything from what her guardians reported to the notes Lilith kept. Lilith had kept her menial tasks for a while, building up muscle and endurance in what Faith could admit was the most frustrating way possible. Ember had complained a lot (Faith remembered she had, too) during that time and received several disciplinary notes. Some on the same day. Combat training was better, but Lilith had concerns about her levels of compassion. 

Out of the two of them, Faith was obviously the better student. She hadn’t complained nearly as much. She progressed in her training faster. She didn’t have many problems with abandoning her compassion, once she realized how useless it was.

(So why did Lilith  _ leave? _ )

(Why hadn’t she killed Ember, yet?)

“You and Dante Hill seem friendly,” Mist noted. She was on a computer, eyes flicking between Faith and the screen. “It’s dangerous to talk to a Chameleon the way you talk to him.”

“Probably,” Faith admitted. “But he hasn’t told me off, yet. If he wants me to stop, he can’t be passive-aggressive about it.”

“Fair,” Mist conceded. “If I may ask… what made you seek him out instead of me?”

Faith shrugged. “He was easier to find. And less likely to shoot a Viper showing up on their doorstep.”

Mist nodded, a thoughtful expression passing over her face as she looked at Faith.

“Smart,” she finally responded. She  _ didn’t  _ give Faith a way to find her. Faith didn’t expect anything else— it was rare for Basilisk to have home addresses, anyway. And Vipers and Basilisks didn’t tend to get close with one another. 

“But next time, you can call for information first before you start pestering our resident Chameleon.”

“But his couch is really comfy to sleep on.”

Mist smiled, even though she tried to conceal it. “I’ll remember that if I have to go MIA.” There was a pause, where Faith went back to reading over a mostly-redacted medical fire. “What was it you were saying about Doctor…”

“Olsen?”

“Yeah. Remind me of who he is?”

“Some scientist Dante works with. I read over some of their emails. The human’s pushy. Makes Dante uncomfortable. Dante doesn’t seem willing to tell  _ him  _ off, either.”

“And why do you care, exactly?” Mist asked. Faith looked at her sharply, but there wasn’t any judgement or suspicion in the question. Just genuine curiosity.

Which Faith didn’t trust for a  _ second,  _ because Mist was a Basilisk, and Basilisks weren’t  _ genuinely curious. _

(Faith didn’t know exactly why she cared.)

“Did you get the file about Vegas?” Faith asked. Not the most subtle of subject changes, but she didn’t care exactly what conclusion Mist drew from that.

“No. Or, I did, but the only part that wasn’t redacted was what we already knew about,” Mist said. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth, then shook her head and closed it.

“What?” Faith asked.

“Nothing,” Mist said. Then amended, “Not right now, anyway.”

~***~

Dante came back with an iced espresso, a cloverbrew, and a caramel frappuccino.

“Your sister is insane,” Mist reported, clearing her throat. “‘Disciplinary Notice: Ember Hill was discovered with a clutch of six coral snake eggs in a makeshift incubator made out of a cooler. She claimed to have found them one month prior and wanted to see what would happen if she hatched them. Surprisingly, the incubator was well-made and the eggs seem to be in good health. Ember’s unsupervised outdoor time has been revoked for the rest of the month, but as she has taken interest in something somewhat educational, she may continue her experiment, so long as her grades stay above an 85%. Snakes will be released if they hatch.’” She waited a few moments, turned a page, and kept reading. “And seven months later, ‘Disciplinary Notice: Ember Hill kept a coral snake. Dante Hill seemed to have known about it. Access to the game room has been revoked and the snake has been released.”

Faith tried not to laugh.

Dante winced. “Yeah… Coco the coral snake was an interesting chapter in our lives.”

“So you  _ were  _ involved,” Mist grinned.

“It’s— we weren’t explicitly breaking rules when we found them, and we didn’t know they were  _ coral snakes  _ at first!” Dante defended weakly. “But… yes. I helped raise Coco. Turns out snakes can eat jerky when you can’t find any lizards or salamanders for them. But I was young! I didn’t know any better.”

“You were fourteen.”

Dante didn’t respond to that. “Did you find anything helpful?”

“Maybe,” Faith responded. “Did you seriously sacrifice lizards for—”

“Shut up about Coco,” Dante snapped. Faith blinked. Dante took a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry. That was rude of me. I just… I’m a bit cranky, and I really want to find my sister. Can we focus on that, please?”

Faith nodded. Ember was the important thing. She was the goal. She was the thing that would let her go back to Talon. The fact that Dante Hill would probably benefit from an emotional support snake was entirely irrelevant.

“I’ve combed through the information Talon has gathered since she went rogue. She took interest in the Western Chapterhouse— that’s where Sebastian lived, obviously— so St. George is likely after her as well. I think my best bet would be piggybacking off of their hard work. Do you know if Sebastian had a partner we could track down?”

“Uh… Lexi mentioned a cousin of his, so that’s probably his partner,” Dante sat down. “But I never got a name, let alone  _ saw  _ him. Does Talon have anything on Sebastian?”

“I looked around. There’s what we know from you and a few raids he was suspected in, but other than that, no. He’s a soldier. We don’t really keep updates on their individual identities unless they  _ really  _ get up the ranks or they do something as crazy as join an underground of rogue dragons.”

Faith narrowed her eyes at the paper. If she could get  _ inside  _ the Western Chapterhouse…

“The good news is that there isn’t a specific person going after Ember, other than Faith, so we’re definitely ahead of the curve. There are a few people sweeping for rogues in general, and if they catch wind of her, they’ll assign a Viper,” Mist said. “More efficient that way. The last place we  _ know  _ they were is New Orleans. Until someone killed—”

“Yeah, I know I fucked up,” Faith said. “So we’re trying to figure out everything in play during that time. What Talon is doing, what the Order is doing, if there are any factions that we’re not aware of. If we find nothing, I’ll chase down the Order. But if there’s anything more cement…” Faith let out a breath. 

This mission was insufferable. Like solving a puzzle that only had half of the pieces. (Like figuring out half of her pieces were from a different puzzle all together.)

“We also have the rest of Griffin’s leaks, which is the most recent information anyone has. There is the possibility, if we hold one of Cobalt’s rogue hostage… I mean, he’d care about them way more than he’d care about some humans, right?” Mist said “Best place to start is Ember last known location. New Orleans, from what I can tell. Rest in peace, Abraham Jacobson.”

“He was a dick, anyway,” Faith muttered, and decided  _ not  _ to mention that their last location was actually the town of Nouveau Marias. Mist didn’t need to know that Faith had tracked them down and didn’t apprehend Ember. Why didn’t she apprehend her? Why  _ couldn’t  _ she?

(She knew why.)

“How did Holland’s lead turn out, anyway?” Mist asked. 

“He didn’t know anything useful,” Faith lied, ignoring Dante’s eyes on her. “So I killed him.”

Mist set down her frappuccino. “Of fucking course you did.”

Most of what they read from Griffin’s intelligence reports, they already knew. Griffin hadn’t been well-trusted by Cobalt, but he had a few contacts in the underground that  _ did  _ trust him. Holland was the obvious one— as dead as he was— but there were a few others that Faith made careful note of them. (She remembered Holland, telling her information that would destroy a twelve-year-old underground after a broken knee and a knife pressed against his throat. She remembered killing him because— because—)

(She didn’t know what she’d do with those names.)

(Did she?)

From there, it was a matter of carefully teasing apart reports. Griffin liked giving half-truths and incomplete information, stringing Talon along for as long as he could in order to preserve his own life. He rarely just _told_ them the location of a safehouse. But slowly, between the three of them, they were able to guess a few locations of hatchlings, whose phone lines they _could,_ potentially, tap. Faith also wrote those down. 

“I hate to say this,” Mist said, in a way that told Faith that Mist did  _ not  _ hate to say it, “but you really did the underground a favor by getting rid of Griffin.”

“He was already useless to Talon by the time I killed him.”

“Sure.”

Faith glared at Mist, who went back to reading, tapping her nails on the table. Her eyes flicked to Faith after a smile, and she smirked slightly. Faith leered back, and Mist snorted. Dante didn’t seem to notice either of them, still immersed in his reading, laptop open beside him.

Mist cocked her head to the side, staring at him.

“What?” Dante, noticing the gaze of an older dragon, finally looked up from his work.

“Your watch reads 1:30,” Mist noted.

“Yep. It’s…” Dante flicked his eyes over to the screen. “1:28, if you wanted something more exact.”

“We should try to sleep, soon,” Mist said. Dante focused back on his screen, and Faith took the cue to turn back to her notebook. 

“Hey,  _ kids.  _ Do I need to set a bedtime?”

“We’ve all worked worse hours,” Dante said. “If Insomnia Cookies is still open—”

“You’re basing your sleep schedule off of a place with  _ insomnia  _ in the title?”

“I’m thinking we look into Judah Nelson, too. That’s who he was sending information to. If he has a history of working with any of the other moles, we could get some of their information. It’ll be outdated, but helpful for pattern-recognition—”

“Oh my god,” Mist groaned. “Let me rephrase: I’ve spent the last two weeks elbow-deep in decade-old research. Talon has been gutting me just as much as you ever since I failed Vegas. I’m tired, and unlike you two, I don’t think sleep is a weakness. Not to mention that Mr. Hill and I need to keep our sleep-schedules in place a  _ little. _ If we’re acting weird on Monday, Talon can and  _ would _ look into what we were doing over the week-end.”

“There’s that Basilisk paranoia we were missing,” Faith said. “Big brother is watching, much?”

“Big brother  _ is  _ watching,” Mist snapped. “And big brother will fuck us up if they figure out we’re working with an MIA Viper. So Dante and I at least should try to keep our sleep schedules consistent, and I don’t want to sleep in a house with a conscious Viper. No offense.

“None taken,” Faith assured. “Though— just checking— are you sure this isn’t because you’re older and therefore feel the need to police our unhealthy sleep habits?”

“So you admit they’re unhealthy?”

“Maybe so. What are you admitting?”

Mist pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want either of you out of commission. For any reason.”

“Is that you trying to say that you  _ care? _ ” Faith asked.

“I call bullshit,” Dante muttered. Mist reached over and hit him on the back of the head. “ _ Ow! _ ”

“You two are both smart, and you’re both good at what you do. The three of us make a good team.  _ Anyone  _ can see that. But more importantly, neither of you have given me a reason to distrust you, other than being a Chameleon and a Viper. So, in a way,  _ yes,  _ I care about you, because that is incredibly rare. I’d like both of you to last along with our little alliance, so I don’t like seeing you make pointlessly bad decisions. Understood?”

Dante appeared to be in shock. Faith nodded, trying not to look dumbstruck. Mist had been  _ honest.  _

Was that honesty, or was it manipulation?

(Sounded like honesty.)

“You’re right,” Faith said. “Until this mission is over, we need to watch each other’s backs. And with what we’re doing, maybe some Basilisk paranoia is warranted.”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

“I usually don’t go to bed until around 2:00 anyway,” Dante muttered. “Thirty more minutes?”

“I’m not leaving a  _ Chameleon  _ out here, either,” Mist looked at him incredulously. “What do you think I am, an idiot?”

“You just said we hadn’t given you a reason to distrust you,” Dante said, looking offended and slightly like a kicked puppy. “I’d hope that I’m more than a Chameleon in your brain by now.”

“I’m a Basilisk. Just because neither of you have given me reason to distrust doesn’t mean that I  _ do  _ trust you,” Mist rolled her eyes. At Dante’s expression, her gaze softened slightly. “And this place is one room. You’d keep us up.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, “I’ll go to bed.”

Dante looked down at the papers again, as did Faith. They had gotten  _ somewhere,  _ but it just seemed to spawn more questions for her. Where was Ember? What was Cobalt’s goal? Did he have a goal? How was Talon connected in all of this? What was  _ Talon’s  _ goal? (What would Faith do when she found them again?)

(What would she do when she found her answers?)

She didn’t sleep for most of the night. She listened to the wind and the creaking of the wooden support beams, to Mist’s complete silence and Dante’s restless turning that tapered off into deep breaths. Faith stared at the ceiling, and tried not to think.

(Thinking in Talon got people in trouble.)

(Wasn’t that all the more reason to?)

“Are you still awake?” Faith asked to the ceiling.

“Unfortunately,” Mist replied softly. “Basilisk’s habit.”

“Did you ask us to go to sleep so you could get some alone time?” Faith felt her lips twist into a slight smirk as she turned to head. Mist was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her, eyes still closed peacefully.

“I asked for you two to sleep for multiple reasons.”

Faith snorted and turned back to the ceiling, staring at the chipped and weathered wood. Mist didn’t help carry the conversation. 

“Do you have specific questions?” Faith asked. “Regarding Talon. You have to be looking for something, if you’re willing to go so far to help me. You’re risking a lot.”

“Talon doesn’t pay me to ask questions,” Mist replied calmly. Like this was a friendly conversation instead of an interrogation by one of Talon’s assassins. Like she  _ wasn’t  _ risking her life based on the assumption that Faith wouldn’t do the job of a Viper.

(Was it an interrogation? Was that  _ really  _ what they were doing, on the floor of a log cabin?)

(It wasn’t.)

“Talon doesn’t pay you to be here, either,” Faith said. There was a pause. “You said the Vegas mission was suspicious.”

“I did.”

“It was.”

There was a silence between them. (An agreement.)

Faith let out a long sigh. Across the room, Dante twitched in his sleep and let out a low hiss. Mist remained still and quiet, entirely alert.

“What are your questions, then?” Faith asked.

Another silence. When Mist answered, Faith could hear a smile in her voice, even if she didn’t look to see.

“How about you try to find your own. When you can voice them, we’ll compare notes.”

Faith snorted softly and closed her eyes. She  _ was  _ tired. It had been a long day, that left her with more questions than answers. She deserved some sleep before another day of work.

No matter what she deserved, when Dante jerked into consciousness and lit a cigarette to chase away the last of a dream, Faith was still awake to witness it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at the last three chapter titles* Yeah, I'm sure chapter 15 will be fine.
> 
> And with that, I vanish. See you next week.


	15. Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter I've been looking forward to. :D
> 
> Though seriously, I've worked hard on this chapter and am VERY happy with how it turned out.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. 

Mist had bought cereal for them, at least. A family-sized box, which promptly disappeared due to the existence of three hatchlings. They ate completely silently, except for when Dante asked if they wanted him to go get coffee. Iced espresso, as always, cappuccino for Mist, and Dante came back with cold brew for himself.

“I put sugar in it this time, so stop looking at me like that,” he said when he returned, pulling out his laptop. “So, we said we were going to dig into Griffin’s contact, right?”

“Yep,” Mist didn’t look away from her second bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. Faith quickly finished her own and slid over to Dante’s side of the table. What he was doing probably wasn’t legal by Talon’s terms, but he didn’t seem bothered. 

She wasn’t bothered, either.

“Well, we know Griffin’s dirt went to Judah Nelson, and Nelson seemed to be giving information to Agent Walker… no last name. That where most of Griffin’s dirt was going, anyway. Anyone know the name?”

“Agent  _ Walker? _ ” Mist looked up from her cereal. Dante nodded. “Well, shit.” She started eating faster and pushed her bowl out of the way when she was finished.

“Care to share with the class?” Dante asked dryly.

“He’s a  _ dick,  _ for one,” Mist said with a vehemence Faith wasn’t used to hearing. “But other than that, he’s a Basilisk. Mostly in the realms of blackmail and some intelligence gathering, less outright espionage. Last I heard, he got promoted and assigned to a big case in Europe. Don’t know what it is, though, and this isn’t the type of thing you can just ask for details on.”

“How do you know him?” Dante said.

“Other than being a  _ dick? _ ” Mist asked.

“Yes. I didn’t think other Basilisks knew of each other very well. Talon usually takes compartmentalization seriously,  _ especially  _ with their intelligence gatherers,” Dante said. “Did you two work together?”

“That’s one way to put a forty-eight hour training session,” Mist snorted.

“He was your trainer?” Faith asked.

“He was a  _ dick. _ ”

“You shouldn’t talk about your trainer like that,” Dante said. 

“Who’s going to let it get back to him? You? Faith? Neither of you are supposed to be talking to me.”

“Okay, other than being a dick… he’s working in Europe?” Dante asked. “Do we strictly need to know what he’s doing in Europe?”

Probably not. Cobalt and Ember were not in Europe. The underground, according to Mist, wasn’t overseas. But why else would Luther need information from Griffin? What was in Europe that applied to Cobalt?

Or to the hacker. The hacker from England.

(The hacker that Ember was training under, because she had rejected Lilith’s legacy of compliance to whoever pulled Talon’s strings—)

(Because she wanted to  _ heal. _ )

“Yes,” Faith said. “I have a hunch.”

Dante looked at her for a moment, like he was waiting for her to keep talking, before he shrugged and looked at Mist.

“I haven’t had contact with Walker for five months, now,” Mist said. “Which is annoying, considering I’m supposed to check in with him every three months to make sure I’m everything the organization expects of me.” Faith  _ really  _ wasn’t used to hearing that much vehemence in Mist’s voice. In  _ anyone’s  _ voice, in this regard. People didn’t voice annoyance towards their trainers, and they  _ definitely  _ didn’t voice anger or disapproval towards Talon as a whole. That was the best way to get assigned a ‘dangerous mission’ or have a Viper make a home visit.

(Faith was a Viper. It would be easy,  _ so  _ easy to take both of these borderline traitors out before they realized what was happening to them.)

(Faith wasn’t a  _ good  _ Viper.)

(Faith… didn’t want to.)

“From what I heard, it’s important and strictly need-to-know. I don’t even know where he is in Europe. My guess was somewhere in eastern Europe, where the governments are weaker. Easy to sow some seeds and grease some hands. But I truthfully have no idea, and I didn’t much care.”

“Wow… you really don’t like him,” Dante said.

“Show me something about him to like, and I’ll reconsider my opinions,” Mist said. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s my superior, and I’ll treat him like one, and I’m grateful for the training he gave me, but that doesn’t stop me from calling him a  _ dick. _ ” Mist poured herself a third cup of cereal. “If he’s working on anything that has to do with the underground, though, I’d check for missions in England. With Cobalt’s second-in-command, and all. Do we know if he has family over there?”

“No. We don’t,” Dante said. “We all saw Talon’s need-to-know file on him, but I tried to get his full case file before our Vegas mission. Cobalt’s, too. Guess what happens to ninety percent of their records?” Dante started marking off on his fingers. “Scrubbed from a server twelve years ago. The one after that was implanted with a bug that shut down an entire building. That was when Talon started keeping them on paper as well, which led to an odd electrical mishap that ended with the evidence being set on fire, and the electronic backup getting embedded with  _ another virus.  _ They tried to make a solely paper one that was ‘lost in transit’. Their existing one is the joint-file that the three of us read, and is only on a set number of computers and in paper. No cloud presence. I think it’s only a matter of time before we have another case of arson on our hands.” 

He was holding up four fingers. Faith was reluctantly impressed.

“Wesley Higgins doesn’t have much presence outside of Talon’s servers, either. The only hard evidence I found of Wesley Higgins  _ or  _ Cobalt existing before four years ago is a cold case from London, England. Guess what tragedy struck the London police’s evidence locker three years ago?”

“A fire?” Mist guessed. 

“Yep,” Dante said. “Nearly all of the information was destroyed, so knowledge of that case really only exists in fringe internet theories, because you can’t erase things from the internet. So what do we know about Wesley? He’s twenty-nine, he’s Cobalt’s second in command, and he lived near London before Adam Roth took interest in him at age fourteen. And while Mr. Roth probably knows more about him— hell, there’s probably a few files on Cobalt and Wesley that they just didn’t want me to know about— we’re not in a position to knock on his door and ask him.”

“And we know he likes fire,” Mist pointed out.

“And he likes fire,” Dante agreed. “And as for Cobalt… Wesley may have had a life before Talon, but Cobalt  _ didn’t.  _ So as far as files go, Cobalt doesn’t really exist. There are some people who don’t think he actually exists.”

“Great,” Faith muttered. “So… we have ‘near London’ to go off of. If Walker’s working on something pertaining to the underground, that’s where he’ll be.”

“Okay, I’ll do what I have to do. Honestly, I was enjoying not having to talk to him,” she muttered, opening her laptop. She clicked a few keys and typed out what looked to be a short message. “Well. That’s going to bite me in the ass.”

“Then why did you do it?” Dante asked.

Mist shrugged. “Why are any of us taking the risks we’re taking? Tactically speaking, one failed mission isn’t worth this.” She looked at the two of them, brow wrinkling, before she closed the computer.

“We’re going to have to wait a bit. I don’t know how often he’s going to be checking our communications. Considering he ghosted me for five months…” she snorted and slouched in her seat. “ _ Dick. _ ”

“What don’t you like about him?” Dante asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Mist looked at him, unimpressed. “Stop mirroring me. You might’ve been trained in schmoozing, but I was trained in interrogation, so I notice this sort of thing.” She shook herself and straightened. “You really want me to like you, don’t you?”

Dante sputtered.

“Anyway. While we’re waiting, I do have some news. I probably should’ve shared it last night, but the two of you were already working by the time I came, and this is the first lull in activity we’ve had.” She put her elbows on the table,  _ incredibly  _ unprofessional, and looked Faith in the eye. Faith stiffened. Mist and Dante were her closest allies in Talon, and she still didn’t make eye contact with them for more than a few seconds. Dragons generally didn’t do eye contact.

Mist’s eyes were blue. Faith… hadn’t realized that.

“I’ve been keeping track of your case with Talon, as a favor. Your Viper’s name is Arison. Juvenile male, trained under Hyaeni—” Faith winced “—Oh, you know her?”

“Hyaeni was one of the Vipers who took over my training when Lilith was reassigned. Hardass. I learned a lot under her.”

“Yeah. I worked a mission with Arison once. He’s really good at what he does. Mostly works with rising militias and St. George-allies, but Talon doesn’t like Vipers having a niche. You understand.”

Faith nodded. 

“He’s classified you as a non-hostile rogue until further notice,” Mist said. Casually, almost, if it weren’t for the edge in her voice and the blue in her eyes. 

Faith felt her weight shift more than she made the effort to move it, positioning her footing so she could move away from Dante and Mist as quickly as they moved, and let her hand rest on her leg, inches away from the knife strapped there.

Really, she couldn’t be shocked. She wanted to be, but she was a Viper. She knew what a rogue was. She had been given medical aid by a rogue underground, hadn’t reported back in a month, now, and was actively trying to avoid having a run-in with Agent Arison. She had, even if Talon didn’t know, killed an informant and let the leaders of a rogue underground slip through her fingers for something as stupid as having  _ questions,  _ having  _ curiosity,  _ having—

(Dante was working himself towards burnout like it was what he was aiming for, and Mist trusted Talon as much as she didn’t trust anything or anyone, and Lilith had  _ left  _ the moment she saw another student with better potential. And Ember was out there, somewhere, running from a future where she would carry Lilith’s teachings and never know  _ why. _ )

(Ember was running free, without Lilith’s  _ burden. _ )

“I wasn’t aware of that.” Her voice stayed even. She expected Mist to start talking, or for Dante to interject with  _ something,  _ but there was silence. “I suppose the smartest thing for the two of you to do would be to turn me in.”

“Probably,” Mist nodded. Dante hummed in agreement.

“Are you going to?” Faith said. She took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and purposefully relaxed her posture. If they were going to take her back to Talon, she would go. She was classified as a non-hostile— if she  _ stayed  _ that way, she’d have to go through a year or so of re-training and then could go on with her life. Unfortunate, but not the end of the world. She wasn’t going to resist if her allies made the decision that would keep themselves safest.

“We were the last two people who were on a mission with her,” Dante said softly. He was mirroring Mist, again. Faith didn’t think it was purposeful this time. “We need to get our story straight.”

“We do,” Mist agreed. “We can do that. Between a Basilisk and a Chameleon it won’t be too hard. And we wouldn’t be expected to know much.”

Faith looked between the two of them.

“When you came back, I was with you in the infirmary as they sent a team out to Faith’s location,” Dante continued. “That’s all true. They said there was a massacre, Mr. Roth told me to check it out, you demanded to go with me. There was a lot of blood, a lot of bodies, and signs of a fight. No Faith, Ember, or soldier. That’s all true, too.”

“We had contact for another two days before you were transferred,” Mist finished. “All of that’s true. If they question us, we stick with that story. Neither of us had reason or time to seek her out, and neither of us knew Faith enough for them to expect us to psych profile.”

“It was seventy-two hours total,” Dante agreed. “We were never here.”

“We were never here,” Mist echoed.

(A proper Viper would know treason when they heard it.)

(Faith heard it fine.)

“You two are idiots,” she said.

“You’re actively campaigning against yourself,” Dante said. He looked pale and sick, but determined. (He looked no more pale and sick than usual.) “You have questions. Mist obviously has them, too. Even if neither of you will tell me what they are, I trust that it’s important you find them. And I want my sister in good hands. I’m not giving up on that now that we’ve gotten this far.”

Mist nodded, like Dante had given every explanation needed. Like it was that simple to explain ignoring the status of a rogue. Like, in this safehouse where no one else could hear them talk, they could  _ trust  _ each other.

Faith knew better. Faith knew better. Faith knew—

(Faith hadn’t missed that Dante said  _ in good hands,  _ and not  _ in Talon. _ )

“Okay,” she nodded. “I guess it’s hurry up and wait, then.”

~***~

It ended up being mid afternoon before the computer beeped and they could stop re-reading the same files and trying to wring new information out of them.

“Walker emailed!” Mist said. “Who knew passive-aggressively blackmailing him was all that I needed to do to get him to respond to me. This is so much better than asking him to check in and have him ignore me for a month.”

Faith snorted. Dante winced.

“He didn’t give me much. He’s working on securing intel on the Order of St. George and doesn’t like the fact that I know where he is. He seems to be under the impression that I’m _supposed_ to know where he is, though, and he says that Talon gave him permission to skip a report with me, that work with Richard Thomas-Aquinas is going well, and he should be back in the States by the time of my next… oh, fuck, I’m going to have to see him in two months.”

“Who’s Richard Thomas-Aquinas?” Faith asked.

“Who’s—” Dante cut himself off. Faith looked back at him and promptly had to double-take. Dante was sheet-white, and he had crushed his empty coffee cup between his hands.

“Uh… are you okay?”

“Richard Thomas-Aquinas is the Patriarch of St. George,” Dante said slowly. “Talon is…” he gave a sharp laugh. “If we weren’t already in over our heads, we certainly are now.”

There was a thick silence as Faith’s mind ground to a halt.

Well, this certainly explained how Talon managed to stage their attempted attack on Cobalt and Ember. This explained…

(Lilith said the rogue underground was declining in power and she didn’t expect it to survive another year, that five safehouses had been wiped off the map, that—)

This explained a lot.

“Fuck,” Mist whispered. And then,  _ “Fuck. _ ”

“This should be a good thing,” Dante said. “This  _ is  _ a good thing. Cobalt’s underground is a fanatical organization whose actions border on— on extremism. Some of his older  _ graduates,  _ or whatever he calls them, have killed people, destroyed buildings and research… if Talon is using St. George to get rid of undesirables, that means St. George is pointed away from us and taking care of threats. It’s a good thing.”

“It should be,” Faith agreed.

(She felt sick.)

“The underground is going to fall,” Mist said. “With how Cobalt has operated, it might take a while, but it’s going to have to go. All of it. Cobalt, Wesley all of their hatchlings… Ember, too.”

“Yeah,” Dante rasped. “I’m…” his eyes darted to Faith and back down to the coffee cup he had destroyed. “I’m going to smoke. Don’t bother following me.”

He stood and left without bothering to push his chair back in, leaving Mist and Faith to watch him retreat. There was a heavy silence.

Faith didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want to follow him?” Mist asked.

“Do you?”

“I kinda want to confiscate his cigarettes,” she admitted. “He was smoking last night, too.”

“It helps him.” Faith didn’t know why she was trying to defend him, especially when the defense fell flat. Smoke didn’t hurt dragons like it did humans, but nicotine was still nicotine. “Besides. It’s not our business. It’s his body, he can do what he wants with it.”

Mist nodded. She closed the laptop and pulled another, smaller, sleeker laptop out of her bag. She quickly typed something up and closed it again.

“I… guessed that Talon had a contact in St. George,” Mist admitted softly. “I thought it was a— a scout, or a mid-ranking officer. But… wow.”

“Wow,” Faith repeated.

“That’s…”

“It’s good,” Faith interrupted, even though she was pretty sure that Mist wasn’t about to say that. (She was pretty sure that neither of them were thinking that.) “Dante’s right. It’s good for Talon.”

“Dante’s stress-smoking on the porch,” Mist pointed out.

Faith didn’t have a response to that.

“Ember’s going to die if she stays in the underground,” Faith said softly. “All the more reason to get her out, I suppose. All of her new friends don’t have a chance, but she does.”

Mist cringed, running a hand through her hair and letting it fall out of its braid. Faith narrowed her eyes.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. Mist didn’t look at her. “Mist.”

Mist put her elbows on the table. After another few moments she shook her head and snorted. 

“Well, aren’t we becoming everything Talon hates,” she murmured. Then she straightened, looking Faith in the eye. “I know you have more going on in your head than you’re telling me.” 

Faith stiffened. 

“I know you’re keeping at least a couple secrets. I know you suspect similar things about me. Frankly, I care very little about that, but for some reason, that makes me trust you more than I trust most people.”

Faith kept eye contact, unrelenting. “Does it.”

“Yes. At least with certain matters,” she said. “Last night I wanted to tell you something.”

“I remember,” Faith said. “I assume it’s something you don’t want the other third of our party to know.”

Mist finally broke eye contact. She stood and locked the door, keeping Dante firmly out. She checked the windows as well before she sat down beside Faith and set a file on the table. It was in a plain manila folder, unassuming and unthreatening, but the label still sent spiders crawling up Faith’s spine.

_ Casefile: Dante Hill. _

“A lot of Ember’s file was redacted,” Mist said. “But not as much as I blacked out by myself. I…” Faith looked at her, and for a moment, she looked concerned. Scared, almost. “I don’t know what to do.”

Faith looked at Mist. Mist kept her eyes on the file. 

With nothing left to do, Faith opened it.

_ Dante Hill _

_ Age: 16 (Hatching Date: January 13) _

_ Sex: X _

_ Status: Chameleon Agent _

Faith kept scanning the page, and her blood ran cold. It was on the first page, unredacted, the exact same format as the rest of the page like it wasn’t horrifying in a way Faith couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to comprehend.

_ Species: Organic-Synthetic Vessel _

_ DNA donor: Elder Wyrm _

“No,” she heard herself say, even though the words were right there on his casefile. She she flipped to the medical section. Parts of it were redacted, but that didn’t negate the pages upon pages of ‘doctors appointments’ and ‘checkups’ and ‘necessary developmental surgeries’. His diagnosis list was longer than  _ complex shifting disorder.  _ (Of course it would be, if Talon was still having trouble with Vessels  _ sixteen years  _ after the program started.)

(Was it even sixteen years old? Or was Dante just the first one that had lived past  _ seventeen surgeries,  _ how was he  _ alive? _ )

Faith swallowed down bile and kept reading.

Doctor Olsen had been his primary care doctor ages one through six.

“What the hell?” Faith rasped.

“Yeah,” Mist agreed. Her eyes darted to the door and then back to Faith. “He doesn’t know. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“No shit,” Faith snapped. She took a breath and flipped through a few more pages. 

_ Disciplinary Notice: Dante Hill bit Doctor Olsen during a routine checkup and refused further treatment. He was restrained for the rest of the appointment and will be wearing a mouthguard for future appointments with Olsen. _

“What’s Ember?” Faith found herself saying, even though most of her was still focused on the file in front of her. Dante was a Vessel. Dante shared DNA with the Elder Wyrm. Dante was a Vessel.

Dante Hill was a science experiment. Sharing DNA with a thousand-year-old dragon was completely irrelevant.

“An organic vessel,” Mist said. “I’m not sure exactly what synthetic versus organic is, but I’m guessing that means Ember’s DNA matches the Elder Wyrm’s perfectly. A clone, really. Dante is… something else.”

“No wonder they wanted Ember back alive,” Faith said, an incredulous laugh making its way up her chest. “The Vegas mission suddenly makes... perfect. sense.  _ Everything  _ makes sense.” Why some sixteen-year-old with a bad attitude had been given priority over so many other rogue cases, why Lilith interrupted Faith’s training to train the  _ clone  _ of the  _ Elder Wyrm,  _ why Dante was being put in charge of the Vessel project at age sixteen, why they were siblings in the first place, why Talon had been willing to send Mist and Faith on a  _ suicide mission— _

(Traitor—)

Faith knew. Faith was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. She had known for a while, and she knew that Mist knew, too. She just hadn’t known  _ why. _

“Of course they wanted her back,” Faith continued. There was an emotion replacing the cold horror. It was hot and tight against her throat, and she wanted to  _ hurt  _ something. “The Elder Wyrm didn’t want to lose the other half of her— her  _ science experiment. _ ”

“My thoughts,” Mist agreed softly. “It’s…” she let out a sigh. “It’s fucked.”

“Dante doesn’t know. They’re— he’s supposed to be leading that Vessel project. He’s burning himself down on both ends for it. Except he’s not  _ leading  _ it, is he, he’s another part of it, another variable being kept close for Olsen’s convenience, and they’re letting Ember and Dante both think—” Faith took a breath. When she exhaled, she tasted smoke in the back of her throat. “Why not just strap him to a table and get their research that way?” Mist looked at Faith sharply. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought that. He could do less  _ blatant rule-breaking _ that way.”

“My guess is they’re trying to lure Ember back. If he drops off the map, Ember won’t be tempted to look for him,” Mist said. “It’s... what I would do, if I were trying to lure back a wayward hatchling.”

Faith took another breath. That made sense, but the thought made her want to vomit. No, it made her want to hurt something. Someone.  _ Kill  _ whoever put this in motion, because it was one thing to make a Vessel like whatever Dante was doing, and something  _ entirely different  _ to make an experiment and let them believe they were more than that. To let them experience life like anyone else when they were nothing more than a  _ variable. _

She heard the way Dante had talked about those Vessels, like they were nothing more than pawns on a chessboard, because that’s all that Talon had created them to be. Just another weapon, a mass of flesh and bone that could be replaced when it was killed. Dante and Ember were more than that. Faith could  _ swear  _ that they were more than that, but they were still  _ Vessels _ . So where the hell did that leave them, in Talon’s eyes?

(And why did that matter to her? Talon lied, Talon killed, and it wasn’t a Viper’s place to question its choices.)

(Faith had questions, she had questions, and they would  _ never  _ go away if this was one of the truths behind them.)

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Faith asked. 

“I didn’t know how to. And… I didn’t know how you’d react,” Mist replied. She took the file back and stowed it away, like that could erase the fact that Dante Hill, who let Faith into his apartment and bought her food and kept a pet snake named Coco, was an  _ organic-synthetic  _ Vessel.

What the hell was a  _ synthetic vessel? _

Faith was in over her head.

How was she going to capture Ember, knowing this? Knowing that she’d be bringing her back to an organization that kept her and her brother as some fucked-up experiment and could take the both of them away to labs no one knew about, where no one would find them. How was she going to capture Ember knowing that St. George was going to kill the rogue underground within the year?

(How could she move against these rogues when  _ she  _ was a rogue?)

“Are we going to tell him?” Faith asked.

“I don’t know,” Mist murmured. “It’s been hard to look him in the eye. I— I’ve done a lot of digging into the Vessel project. Not the hardest thing to do, considering where I am and my faction. From what I can tell… it’s been going on in the background for about twenty-five years, but they were getting absolutely nowhere. The Vessels wouldn’t grow, or they’d grow their nervous system and then  _ stop,  _ or… a lot of things. Then, sixteen years ago, they had a breakthrough. Two guesses as to what that breakthrough was.”

Faith didn’t respond to that. She didn’t have to.

“Dante’s only getting favor because his sister is missing,” Faith said. 

“Probably.”

“If Ember was brought back, or if Ember died…” Faith pursed her lips. “It would be safer for Dante if Ember didn’t come back. It would keep his place in Talon secure, it would— it would—” Faith stood and shook her head. “That doesn’t  _ matter.  _ Ember’s my mission. Ember’s a  _ rogue.  _ And there’s no way for them to win either way if Ember’s going to get killed by St. George. They’re both fucked.”

There was a thick silence between them. A Basilisk and a Viper, with enough dirt on the other for a careful, mutually-assured destruction. The closest thing to trust anyone could get in Talon.

Mist’s computer dinged. She opened it and let out a long breath.

“There’s a rumor,” she said softly. “That Cobalt and company are in Chicago. He’s looking for something there. People suspect it’s information about St. George.” She looked at Faith, considering. “It would be a shame, if someone gave him information to bring down the alliance between Talon and St. George. A real tragedy for Talon.”

Faith blinked, Mist’s words sinking in, along with the meaning behind them. “Who’s side are you playing for?”

Mist took a piece of paper from her bag and wrote down an address before sliding it over to Faith.  _ 2485 Ferrell Street, Room 28, Chicago, IL, 60617. _

“Visit that building before you look for them,” Mist said. “I’d leave soon, if I were you. Chicago’s a big city, and there’s only so long they’ll stay in the same place. As for your question… I think it’s time you start asking that to yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) You're welcome :)


	16. Intrigue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, after four chapters— back to Ember!

Staying in a hotel or a one-room Airbnb was fine when it was Ember, Wes, and Riley. Wes and Riley could take the bed and Ember could take the couch— or the other bed, if there was one. When one of them couldn’t sleep— and it was rare that all of them could sleep at the time— they would take watch or work. Ember had quickly learned that there was always a network to maintain, people to call, safehouses to keep track of. Books to read, in her case— she was pretty sure she had read more in the past month than she had in the year beforehand. It was crowded at times, but they managed. It was even comforting, at times, like when she and Dante had impromptu overnights.

Staying in a two-room Airbnb with five people, however, seemed distinctly _not fine._

Riley was, to put it nicely, unhappy about Garret’s general existence. After a borderline interrogation and five days to get used to the other’s presence, he had cooled down enough to not aim a gun at him, but things were still tense. He’d still send frequent glares in Garret’s general direction, and they were still a long way from anything that could resemble trust. 

Ember didn’t know what she herself thought of Garret. She had spent the past month trying to move on from that summer, because never expected to see him again, let alone a month after Vegas. And yet, there he was, sitting in the mainroom of the Airbnb, beside an Eastern Dragon that he had apparently met in England. 

And then there was the Eastern Dragon. Shen-Lung. Xuan Jade. Ember had decided  _ not  _ to think too hard about that.

There was also the fact that the Patriarch was being blackmailed by Talon, and that was why Riley’s underground was being massacred along with the  _ entirety of China,  _ and they had to break into a secure vault of information in order to get evidence of this to show the Order.

“So…” Ember said slowly, trying to break the silence that kept settling over them. Jade and Garret were sitting on the couch, talking back and forth on if Jade needed to stay with them after the heist— apparently Jade wanted to, which was interesting— Wes was sitting at the table with his laptop open, Ember was sitting on the floor, and Riley was hovering in the doorway, keeping everyone under a watchful gaze. “Uh… other than stalking the Patriarch of St. George, what were you doing in England? Anything… fun? Interesting?”

“Nope,” Garret shook his head. He wrung his hands and looked at Jade, who gave him a look that Ember couldn’t decipher. “You?”

Ember held up a binder. In the past five days, she had graduated from her human anatomy textbook and had moved onto a draconic anatomy book, because reading was turning into the best way to avoid awkward conversations. “Medic training.”

“Impressive,” Garret nodded. “Uh… you know, when you first said you were apprenticing under Wes, I assumed you were hacking. Which— uh, didn’t seem like you, but it’s not like I really  _ knew—  _ I mean, I knew you in Crescent Beach, but…” he scratched the back of his neck, looking wide-eyes at Jade, who said nothing. Ember didn’t respond either. “You’ll be a good doctor. How have you been, Riley?”

Riley glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. Ember noted that he was now carrying both a gun  _ and  _ a knife on his belt. “Peachy. You?”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Okay.”

Ember was starting to prefer the twenty-four hour planning session of yesterday. Wes had been the one to disband that after Riley started compulsively checking the windows and doors as they talked, and had refused to lift the ban until Riley and Wes, quote ‘trusted the newcomers enough not to self-destruct’.

The  _ getting to know you  _ exercises were not going well.

“Garret has told me about both of you,” Jade said. She gave a slight smile before she appeared to deem it irrelevant. “I understand that trust is hard to come by, but if there’s anything you wish to ask in order to sate your… suspicions, I am an open book.”

There was a long silence. A  _ long  _ silence. 

Garret kept sneaking glances at Ember. She could feel it. She kept doing the same to him, too. 

They had only really known each other for a few weeks. She hadn’t even  _ known  _ him, and he hadn’t known her. He had known Ember Hill from North Dakota, who liked shopping and surfing and whose best friend was Alexis Thompson. And she had known a lie of an identity, too. A teenager from Chicago with a dog. Riley had been honest from the moment he met her. Hell, the even name he had given, though it wasn’t his birth name, was the name Wes used ninety-five percent of the time. And she couldn’t deny that she felt things for Riley. She trusted him, and he made some part of her come alive in a way that Garret  _ didn’t.  _

But she couldn’t deny...

Wes sat beside her. 

“How is the book coming?” he asked, loudly.

“Uh… I finished notes for the— the,” Ember cleared her throat. “Intige— int— fuck. In-te-gu-men-tary system.” She showed Wes the loose-leaf paper. She had become very good at note taking in the past few days. The silence wasn’t nearly as awkward when she was trying to take notes that would pass Wes’ note-check.

Wes took them from her hands, quickly scanning over what she had written. He nodded.

“It’s a lot more complicated than human skin,” he said. “So the way you treat it is different, depending on if someone is in human or dragon form. You understand that now, right?” 

“Yeah, I get it, I know why you had me read  _ two textbooks,”  _ Ember said. Wes snorted.

“What a horror,” he snarked. “Two whole textbooks.”

“Hey, I’ve  _ read  _ them!” Ember defended, waving around her binder. “It’s only been a month, and I still got through one and a half, at least, and I’ve done note outlining like you asked me to, and I answer the questions at the end of the chapter, and  _ everything.  _ That’s way more than I ever did back in Talon. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Wes was smirking at her. “Nothing.”

“No! spit it out.”

“You’re bored, aren’t you?” 

Ember opened her mouth, then shut it again. She wasn’t just going to  _ admit  _ that, when Wes’ biggest reserve about teaching her was her lack of patience with academic things in general. She wasn’t going to prove him right.

“So, since you’ve read about the integumentary system for both dragons and humans, I can explain stitches properly,” Wes said. Ember looked at him sharply. “I explained it briefly the first night, I know, but that was much more in case our hunt for Griffin goes ass-backwards. Which it did. Not in the way we were expecting.  _ However,  _ there are different types of injuries that need different types of stitching. For example: knives cut. Dragon claws  _ tear, _ ” he continued, like there weren’t three other people in the room. “They also have a  _ much  _ higher risk for infection, which you need to keep in mind. Overall much nastier wound to deal with— cat scratch fever doesn’t hold a bloody candle. Do you remember our lesson on the first aid kit?”

Ember nodded. She also remembered stitches, and how to place an IV, so it was fairly easy to follow his string of words. About to always clean the wound out before she did any stitching, because dragon-scratch fever was painful and dangerous, and that the best way to close the wound was with an everting stitch pattern. Though she didn’t remember what the hell an  _ everting pattern  _ was.

Wes didn’t glare at her when she brought that fact up, but he did sigh.

“Do you not remember what an everting stitch pattern is, or do you not remember how it’s done?”

“No, I know what it  _ is—  _ don’t look at me like that, I  _ do.  _ It’s…” Ember paused, looking at everyone, who was staring at this impromptu lesson rather than engaging in more awkward conversation. “It’s a stitch pattern that turns the skin out instead of in. And you said in dragon form, wounds tend to invert, so you should use an everting stitch pattern.” She wasn’t in private, so she bit back the ‘ _ so, hah!’  _ that she wanted to finish with. “I just don’t remember how to do it.”

“Well, we don’t have any raw chicken for me to use, so if anyone wants to be stabbed, I could demonstrate what an everting stitch pattern is,” Wes said, looking directly at Garret.

“ _ Wes,”  _ Ember hissed.

“Fine,” Wes rolled his eyes. “Come on, follow me. I’m going to cut up one of Riley’s shirts.”

“ _ Hey! _ ”

Wes shut them in the available bedroom. He did not, in fact, shred one of Riley’s shirts, but he did sacrifice a bandana to the cause. Three weeks earlier, he had made Ember watch videos on how to suture cuts. This time, he gave her a sewing kit, showed her two or three stitches, and made her do the rest of the row herself. The stitches, in Wes’ words, were clumsy, and needed serious practice, but an acceptable first try.

She  _ did  _ need practice, but an  _ acceptable first try  _ was high praise, coming from Wes.

“How’s your arm?” Ember asked after she held up a now-repaired bandana.

“Eh.” Wes held up his arm. He wasn’t wearing bandages, anymore, and the stitches had dissolved, but the scarring was still deep and ugly. “It still hurts, but I seem to have my range of motion back, and it only shakes when I’m typing for more than three hours.”

Ember furrowed her brow. “You regularly work for more than—”

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Wes waved his hand in dismissal. “Next time Riley runs headlong into danger and gets himself sliced to ribbons, I’ll see if you can help.”

“You’ll see?”

“Stitching closed veins and arteries is a bit more complicated than skin, and broken bones are a hassle” he said. There was a slight silence between them.

“Thanks for getting me out of the mainroom,” Ember said.

“I didn’t want to be there, either,” Wes said with a wince. “But we  _ did  _ leave Riley out there alone.”

“I feel a bit bad.”

“I don’t.”

Ember snorted, but sobered quickly, wringing her hands. It was still a dream, to her, having Garret back. It made her heart twist in her chest just as much as it filled her with warmth, and she didn’t know which was worse. Because she had let him leave. She thought that would be the end of it.

Damn her feelings. Why did it make things so  _ complicated? _

Wes rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I can  _ feel  _ your stress. It’s worse than it was after Faith.”

Ember winced. “Sorry.”

“I suggest you talk to someone about it,” Wes said “We’re going to be breaking into a highly secure base of Talon’s most important information. We need you at your best, not blundering around with your gushy feelings about St. George and Riley.”

Ember blinked and straightened. “I… what?”

“You heard me,” Wes said. “I swear, I will never understand you.”

Ember prickled. “What? You’ve never— never—” Her face grew hot, but  _ no way  _ was she backing out of this conversation with  _ Wes.  _ “You’ve never been in love, then? Because really, it would just be sad if you’ve never loved when you’re twice my age.”

“You have a very  _ sad _ definition of love, if you think I don’t have it.”

Ember furrowed her brow. Wes closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, giving a groan that was much more dramatic than necessary.

“This is going to have to be a real conversation, isn’t it?” he muttered to himself. “Look, Ember. I’m not going to pretend to understand what you see in Garret or Riley. Your version of love is strange and honestly a bit nonsensical.  _ However, _ ” he said, as Ember made to reply, “It’s obviously important to you, and it’s causing way much more distress than I’d like for a—” he seemed to choke on a word. Ember raised her brows. “I take care of my kids. No one can ever say I don’t. So what’s on your mind?”

Ember looked at Wes, waiting for… she didn’t know. She still remembered the way he treated her in Vegas, like she was an over emotional child that he wanted nothing to do with. She half-expected him to brush her off and say he wasn’t being  _ serious,  _ that he didn’t care.

He didn’t say that. 

“I’m… confused,” Ember admitted. “I liked Garret. A  _ lot.  _ He was nice, and earnest, and a lot of fun to be around. And understanding, no matter what I was feeling, even when I couldn’t explain what was going on. And— and I know we were lying to each other, and I have no idea who he really is. The boy from Chicago doesn’t exist. I met Garret-from-St.-George for a day or so, but that’s barely any time to really  _ know  _ him, and he only met Ember-the-Dragon for a day in Vegas, and… I don’t think Ember from last month even knew who  _ she  _ was. Hell, I don’t think I know who I am  _ now _ . I’m not even sure if I insisted on saving him because I genuinely liked him or out of guilt or because he was one person from my former life I could take with me. So I— I feel like I shouldn’t feel things for him, but I  _ do.  _ I still feel so many things— we both do, I think.”

She took a breath and looked back at Wes. His expression didn’t show particularly any understanding, or even much empathy, but his eyes hadn’t glazed over and he didn’t look annoyed, so she kept talking.

“And… then there’s Riley. And he was honest from the start, and he’s  _ amazing.  _ I mean, I’m guessing you know that, because you’re friends. But it feels so  _ different,  _ but also not, really? It’s… intense. And I want to make that work, but I’m not sure  _ why,  _ because it’s all just so instinctual. And there’s a reason Lexi called him Gorgeous Biker Boy—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Wes said. Ember snapped her mouth shut, and Wes gave her a slightly apologetic, slightly grossed out expression. “I can deal with you gushing over St. George, but please don’t make me listen to you talking about my best friend like that. It’s  _ weird. _ ”

Ember snorted. “Is asexual a word for prude?”

Wes slapped her on the backside of the head.

“ _ Ow! _ ”

“I’m going to have a talk with  _ Gorgeous Biker Boy  _ about outing me without permission,” Wes muttered, shaking his hand out. “Anyway. That sounds… incredibly complicated. Then again, the situation with St. George would be complicated, even if you  _ didn’t  _ have the romantic aspect to deal with. I don’t envy you by any means. If I were you, I’d think long and hard before you go trying to chat him up. I’m not going to judge if you decide to start… dating, or anything. I’m hardly someone with experience. But make sure you  _ know  _ the guy, and that it’s something you actually  _ want,  _ instead of something you’re clinging to because you want to go back to Crescent Beach.”

Ember blinked. “That was… surprisingly good advice. Thanks, Wes.”

“Now, if you’re going to try anything with Riley…” Wes continued. He looked at Ember, expression pained and slightly beseeching. “Please remember that Riley and I share a room most of the time, and I  _ do not  _ want to hear or hear about or  _ see  _ anything. It’s  _ so  _ gross.”

Ember laughed. “Okay, okay. Are you or Riley ever going to tell me what an asexual is?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “It’s not being prude, first off. Or being celibate. It means I don’t feel attraction like you do. Riley’s described it a few times. That… lust, or need, or… weird, nonsensical desire for sex? I don’t have it. It’s  _ weird.  _ And I don’t have any desire for a romantic relationship, either. I  _ certainly  _ can’t fathom dedicating myself to a romance with anyone if I haven’t known him for a few years.”

Ember furrowed her brow. “Isn’t it… I don’t know, sad? Not loving people?”

Wes snorted. “I love people  _ plenty.  _ I loved my parents when they were still around. I love my kids. I love Riley a  _ lot _ . There isn’t some— some weird, nonsensical relationship hierarchy that everyone seems to insist on. Or if there is, someone didn’t give me the bloody memo, and I don’t want it,” He paused. “You’re not too bad, either.”

“Oh,” Ember said. Then realized what Wes said, while holding a stitched-together bandana. She grinned. “I love you too, Wes.” 

And she hugged him.

“ _ Bloody fucking hell! _ ”

Wes managed to extract himself from Ember’s arms, mostly because she let him, and stood.

“I’m going to make sure no one’s killing each other,” Wes said. “Uh… you can stay here, if you want. I’ll cover for you. It’s easier to study when it’s quiet, anyway.” He left. Retreated, more like. 

Ember felt… better. It was nice to talk to someone, and it was nice to talk to someone who could be at least a  _ little  _ objective, even if he seemed absolutely disgusted at the idea of Ember being with Riley. Amusingly so, really.

_ There isn’t some relationship hierarchy.  _ She hadn’t ever heard that stance before. Love wasn’t talked about in Talon— loyalty was the closest it got, and that was supposed to be for the organization only. And in Crescent Beach, Lexi and Kristen only talked about loving their boyfriends, or wanting to fall in love with some man of their dreams and run off with him. Like any notion of friendship paled in comparison. The idea that she could pick one person without completely abandoning the other was a breath of fresh air to her mind.

There was a knock on the window.

There was a  _ knock  _ on the  _ third story window. _

Ember drew her gun and clicked the safety off, body tensing as she edged towards the window. There were a lot of people who wanted Riley dead, and by extension, Ember. But she had a feeling about who had managed to scale to a  _ third story apartment building.  _ And who  _ knocked on the window. _

Carefully, ready to spring back and aim her gun, she pushed the window open and looked out.

“I need to talk to you,” Faith said, her voice calm and civil, as if she weren’t hanging off the windowsill of a  _ third story window.  _ “It’s important.”

“Last time we saw each other, you shot me and broke my nose,” Ember said coldly. “The time before that you tried to kill me. Forgive me if I doubt your intentions. Give me one reason that I shouldn’t shoot you.”

“It breaks the hippocratic oath,” Faith replied. “Also, I  _ really  _ need to talk to you. Shoot me later, when I actually deserve it. There’s more important things to deal with, right now.”

Ember stared. And stared.

And grabbed Faith’s wrist, helping to haul her into the room. Which, apparently she needed help, because she was carrying a box under her other arm.

“You get along with that human better than you did in Vegas,” Faith noted. Ember stiffened, moving her finger around the trigger of the gun. “Woah, woah, I mean nothing by that. The human’s safe.”

“Why are you here?” Ember asked.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why are you  _ here? _ ” Ember hissed. “Aren’t you supposed to be trying to kill me?”

“Capture you, technically. And I’ll… get to that later. There are more important things to do,” Faith said. And didn’t tell Ember what the important thing was. She just… stared, eyes wide, a little crease in her brow. Like she was staring at a ghost.

“What?” Ember hissed.

“Your brother—” she paused. Shook her head and dropped the box pointedly on the bed. “I know about the link between Talon and the Patriarch. I know you were looking for evidence in Chicago. Well… there it is. All of it that I know about, anyway.”

Ember stared at Faith. Faith, who was Lilith’s prodigy— her  _ real  _ prodigy, not whatever Ember was. Who had tried to kill her in Vegas, and who had pointed a gun at her in a church, and who was a Viper through and through.

“ _ What? _ ” she hissed.

“I thought it would be a fair bit safer than breaking into… wherever you guys were trying to break into,” Faith said. Ember kept staring. “I read through it. It’s all legit.”

“What?”

“ _ What? _ ”

Ember raised her gun. Faith didn’t move. “What are you playing at?”

Faith shrugged. “I thought it could help.”

“You can’t expect me to  _ believe  _ that,” Ember narrowed her eyes. “Why are you really here?”

“I gave you a gift. Isn’t that a good thing?” Faith asked. Ember kept her gun trained on Faith. Faith sighed. “Look. St. George would wipe your underground out. As much as your little organization has been a thorn in Talon’s side, it doesn’t seem in my best interests to let that happen. Not to mention I can’t have Dante’s sister dying. He’d—” There was that look again, like Faith was looking at something that was horrifying in her eyes. Then she straightened, and her expression smoothed over into a mask. “Objectives change. Mine happen to be in a grey area at the moment. Count yourself lucky.”

There was a silence.

“I don’t believe you,” Ember said.

“Well, no one can say I didn’t try,” Faith said, putting her hands in her pockets.

“And talking about my  _ brother  _ isn’t going to get me to trust you.”

She said that, but she kept her voice quiet enough that no one beyond the door would be able to hear him. She had a gun in her hand, but she hadn’t fired. She said that, but she had helped Faith into her  _ room.  _ On the  _ third story. _

“He’s doing well for himself,” Faith offered. “Still doesn’t know the definition of rest, but it’s paying off. He’s— he’s important. People respect him. And he did it alone,” Faith said. Ember clenched her jaw. Faith’s combat style was one suited for knives and guns, but she wielded her words like a blunt weapon. Somehow, Ember preferred the knives. “Anyone would be proud of him. You certainly should be.”

“What are you trying to say?” Ember growled.

“What I just said. I know you’re on separate sides right now, but… I hope you can still care about him. He  _ certainly  _ cares about you,” Faith said. Her eyes flitted to the package on the bed. “Talon keeps a lot of secrets.”

Ember blinked. She lowered her gun slightly, then realized she had just  _ lowered her gun around a Viper.  _

“Would you like to elaborate?” Ember asked.

“No,” Faith shook her head. “Break the bond between Talon and St. George. I don’t care how. It puts a lot of people at risk, on every side. This will make a lot of lives easier. Keep a lot of people safe.” She looked back at Ember, and acknowledged the gun for the first time. “Are you going to shoot me with that if I climb back out the window?”

“Uh…” Ember blinked. “Not if you don’t attack me.”

“Great,” Faith nodded. “Good luck, Ember.”

She left the way she came. No threats. No fanfare. No  _ life for a life,  _ or any explanation of what her goal was. Because someone loyal to Talon wouldn’t deliver exactly what the rogue underground needed to keep going. When she looked back out the window, Faith was nowhere to be seen.

Ember didn’t trust Faith. She  _ didn’t.  _ But… she wasn’t afraid of her, either. She didn’t hate her, or resent her, or feel anything but confusion surrounding the other Viper. Lilith’s other student, who kept orbiting her, throughout chasing down Griffin and going against the Patriarch of St. George, through meetings with Dante and killing one of Talon’s informants. Faith didn’t seem to be leaving Ember’s life anytime soon.

Ember wasn’t afraid of that.

Ember was  _ intrigued. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, Wes is canon demiromantic asexual because I am demiromantic asexual and related way to much to all of his reactions to the Riley/Ember/Garret triangle and also I want representation.


	17. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that I should mention that this arc was supposed to be 30,000 words at most. And the series was only supposed to be one arc. Which, thinking about it, is the story of 90% of my WIPs, but this one gets a special shoutout, because when I finished the draft, the word count totaled 65,000 words, and now it's 72,000, I still haven't finished editing, and I have NO IDEA where 7,000 more words came from (Which is the story of all my works in editing purgatory).
> 
> So. Cheers!

Ember looked through the contents of the box before she even  _ considered  _ going back into the mainroom and telling them where she got it. The information, as Faith said, appeared to be legitimate, as far as Ember could understand. And Faith just… gave it to them.

What was Faith  _ doing?  _ She had to have some sort of long con, or end goal, or a setup behind this. She was a Viper. She was  _ Lilith’s student.  _ She wouldn’t help the underground destabilize what had to be one of Talon’s most ambitious campaigns unless she had a reason. A plan.  _ Something.  _ This had to be a trap of some kind.

Except the information was legit. And she had checked the box and the file— there weren’t any bugs or trackers, nothing that could be considered a threat. What motivation could possibly possess her to do something like this?

_ Talon keeps a lot of secrets. _

What else was she hiding? Was this offering made to cover something bigger? What could be bigger than  _ this? _

There was a knock on the door. Ember jolted and closed the box, like it was a dirty secret.

“Firebrand,” Riley called. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

“Uh… free country?” she said. 

The door opened, and Riley gave her a weak smile.

“You and Wes are assholes,” he said, sitting beside her. “Though it’s nice to know you don’t think I’m going to kill St. George the moment you turn your back. And I’m glad you and Wes seem to be getting along, too.”

Ember nodded. Riley furrowed his brow.

“You’re pale,” he noted. “Are you okay? I know the last few days have been—”

“Faith knows where we are.”

That was not the right thing to say. Ember knew that. She knew that because Riley had spent the last few days coming down from a state of borderline-delusional levels of vigilance. But was there any  _ good  _ way to say that Faith snuck into their Airbnb through the  _ third story window? _ And gave them  _ exactly  _ what they needed for seemingly no price at all, other than cryptic and passive-aggressive statements?

Looking at Riley, she realized they’d have to have this conversation on the road.

“We should probably pack up,” she said.

“Yeah, no shit, Ember. What the fuck do you— why is there a box on the— did Faith  _ visit?  _ We’re on the third— did Faith climb  _ three stories  _ and give you a  _ box? _ ”

The three— five of them, now, packed up as Ember tried to explain that, yes, Faith had visited, no, there wasn’t any violence,  _ yes,  _ Ember checked the box, because she didn’t want for there to be a bomb that she didn’t know about, and everything seemed to be legit, as far as someone with no knowledge about the inner workings of Talon or the Order could tell. And then they were leaving, and in a shitty hole in the wall in the west side of Chicago.

Ember consciously decided  _ not  _ to tell Riley about Faith’s acknowledgement of Wes’ general existence. She didn’t want to give him a mental breakdown.

“What reason does she have to give us this, unless it’s something Talon wants? If they’re planning something bigger, something they need the Order weakened for, then putting the key to its inevitable civil war with a bunch of desperate rogues is the way to do it,” Riley muttered. “And you checked. You’re  _ sure  _ there aren’t any bugs or trackers?”

“You checked, too!” Ember said. 

“While your point is fair, and there’s  _ definitely  _ something hinky going on, I don’t see what other choice we have,” Garret said softly. It was a testament to Riley’s stress that he didn’t immediately start glaring. “If we try to kill the Patriarch— which, good luck— St. George will just double down on dragon killing, and your underground is the most undefended. And we can’t just let it  _ keep going _ , so the only option we have is to expose him.”

“I know, I know… but there has to be a catch,” Riley said. Ember watched as he paced, back and forth, back and forth. She didn’t like seeing him like that. “Vipers don’t just turn on Talon.”

“I turned on St. George,” Garret shrugged.

“After a month of being exposed to a very nice dragon who you had heart eyes over,” Wes interrupted without looking up from his task. “No offense, but teen male hormones played way too much of a part in your redemption for me to think it can be replicated.”

“Hey!” Garret straightened. 

“And that means either she broke into the Vault alone, and  _ knew  _ about the Vault, or she had help from the inside, meaning she’s working with someone.”

“Well, we know she’s working with my brother,” Ember said. Garret’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, we  _ really  _ need to catch you up on the Faith situation. But I don’t think Dante would know about the Vault, either. I mean, he’s a  _ Chameleon.  _ He wouldn’t have to know about this sort of thing, would he?”

“I don’t  _ know. _ ”

“Do you… wanna… sit, or anything?” Ember asked.

“No.”

“Done,” Wes said. “I checked through all of the USBs. No trackers or bugs inside. This isn’t a play at chasing us down.”

“Then it’s a play at something else.”

“I don’t know,” Ember said. “I mean… when we talked—”

“Can’t believe you  _ talked. _ ”

“—she seemed shaken. In the church, she acted confused, but not like this. Back then, she was still at least  _ trying  _ to follow Talon’s orders. But this time, she… she said  _ Talon keeps a lot of secrets.  _ I think she’s trying to protect something, or someone, or she found something that she didn’t want to,” Ember said. “I’m not saying we trust her blindly, but… what else are we supposed to do?”

“There isn’t much else to be done,” Jade spoke softly. Riley started slightly at her voice, like he was still unaccustomed to the sound. “This connection between St. George and Talon has to fall in one way or another. If the information is legitimate, everyone would benefit for it to be used. You’re not the only ones Talon’s hunting down.”

“Oh, so  _ now  _ the Chinese want to help,” Riley snapped. “I still haven’t ruled you out as a Talon spy, and you’re not helping your case.”

Jade furrowed her brows. “I’m  _ Asian. _ ”

“And? In case you haven’t noticed, Talon isn’t a strictly European organization! It hasn’t been for centuries!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time Talon’s managed to snare a non-European,” Wes said. “ _ However _ , considering she showed up with St. George, I’d say she’s relatively safe. Just trying to look after her own people.”

That managed to make Riley stop pacing. He took a deep breath, muttered a few things that Ember couldn’t understand, and gave a jerking nod.

“We have what we came here for. Right now, our biggest concern is making sure there’s not a Viper on our tail. I have a safehouse relatively close that we can hole up in, we can figure things out there. We’ll… I’ll go through the evidence, St. George can go through it, too, make sure there aren’t any surprises. And we’ll figure out what to do with it,” Riley said, running his hands through his hair. “You’re sure the evidence isn’t bugged or trackable?”

“As sure as I can be, unless you want me to smash the USB circuit boards with a hammer,” Wes said dryly.

“Tempting, but no.” Riley managed a weak smirk. “Okay. Okay. Let’s get somewhere safe.”

~***~

The car ride was three hours long, which was enough time to catch Garret and Jade up on the Faith situation and then sit in silence for way too long. Wes pointedly  _ didn’t  _ help in easing the conversation. Ember was becoming very grateful for a textbook to hide behind.

“You’re a doctor?” Jade asked. Jade was serving as a helpful buffer between her and Garret, who was staring at the back of Riley’s chair, like if he was still enough, he didn’t have to acknowledge the rest of the world.

“Yes. No. Not yet,” Ember replied. “Uh… I’m better at fighting, but Wes says I’m a good student.” Her eyes darted to Wes, who didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Right?”

“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” he admitted.

“I thought you were a… hacker?” The word was clumsy in Jade’s mouth. Whether it was because she was older than computers or because her first human language wasn’t English, Ember couldn’t tell.

“I can have multiple skills. The hacking’s been around longer, though,” Wes said.

“Not all of us could start programming at age six,” Riley said, even though it was more of a murmur, since he was busy reading through the files. 

“I didn’t know you were interested in medicine,” Garret said.

“I wasn’t interested in Vegas,” Ember replied, twisting her fingers in her lap. “But things change. People change.”

Garret winced at that, scratching the back of his neck. Ember looked away. Back to the textbook, then. She was starting to realize why Wes spent so much time glued to his work, if it meant he could avoid the stiff silence that settled over them. 

She was learning about the nervous system. It was fascinating.

It wasn’t fascinating enough to keep her attention, though. Her mind kept straying back to Faith. What game she was playing, how Dante was involved, who else she had on her side. What strings she was pulling, what strings she  _ wasn’t.  _ What she meant by  _ Talon keeps a lot of secrets.  _ Was she trying to turn their eyes from something bigger, or had she found something that she couldn’t stomach? What was so horrible that a Viper couldn’t stomach it?

What did this mean for Faith’s future?

Would Ember ever see her again? Did she  _ want  _ to?

The safehouse was roomy for two people and cramped for five, with one story and two bedrooms, but it was isolated, and a good place for Riley to lock himself in a bedroom and comb over the evidence. Leaving her, Wes, Jade, and Garret in the mainroom. 

Ember decided after five minutes that she and Wes owed Riley some apology chocolate, or something.

“So… if this  _ is  _ evidence that we can use, what the hell are we supposed to do with it?” Ember asked. “It’s not like you have anyone in the Order you can talk to.”

Garret grimaced. “Well, there is one person, but he’s in England, and also I’ve already called in my one favor with him, so he’s probably jumped on the kill-Garret train along with all of my other friends.” An expression flashed across his face that Ember understood all-too-well. “But no one in the Order would let me, let alone any of  _ you  _ march up and drop a bunch of evidence at their feet. I… there is one person, maybe, who wouldn’t shoot me on sight. Might sit down long enough to talk.” he started absentmindedly scratching at his collar. Jade put a hand on his wrist. “Right. Sorry. I just miss him, is all.”

Ember realized who he was talking about. His cousin. Partner. They hadn’t seemed close in Crescent Beach— Ember had only seen him once or twice, after all— but now she knew better. And Jade knew about him, if Garret didn’t even have to say his name.

Ember felt a twinge somewhere deep in her chest. Did Jade know Garret better than Ember did?

“We’re going with ‘who might not shoot you on sight’, now,” Wes noted. “That’s comforting. Hypothetically, would Tristan—” Garret stiffened. “What? The Order keeps files, and it’s my job to know who’s connected to people in my underground. Which, congrats, you’re a part of. You’re emphatically  _ not  _ invited to the group chat.”

“There’s a group chat?” Ember asked.

“Not important. Point is, Tristan’s nearly as much as an Order brat as  _ you  _ were. And he has reason to hate you on a personal level.”

“I changed,” Garret said. “He might be able to, too. And we’re— we were— he wouldn’t just—” he paused. “He’s smart, and he was— he _is_ really good at analyzing information. The scouts tried to recruit him every year. If we give him evidence, he won’t turn it away just because of who it came from.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Wes sighed, looking over to the closed door. “How’re you holding up there, Riley?”

“Fuck off!” came the reply through the door.

“He’s fine,” Wes nodded. “Security is set up around the perimeter, so we’ll know if anything comes in or out. So, until we figure out exactly what we’re doing with the evidence, we’re on lockdown.”

“Yay…” Ember muttered. Lockdown in a two-bedroom house, surrounded by Cobalt and Garret. Who hated each other. And who she both had feelings for. And also Wes, who was turning into something uncomfortably close to a friend, and who was glaring at Garret way more than Ember liked.

Why was everything so  _ complicated? _

“Ember,” Garret said. Ember looked up. “We… uh… we haven’t had a chance to properly talk since I came back.”

_ Oh fuck. _

“And I think you’ve been avoiding me,” he continued. “And… I’ve  _ definitely  _ been avoiding you.”

“Uh…”

“And I get that things have changed, and avoiding each other honestly seems like a great plan, judging by your facial expression—” Jade elbowed him “— _ But... _ I would like to talk to you about— about… you know, you’ve changed, and I’ve changed, and I never expected to come back, so we both— or, I  _ think  _ we both tried to move on—”

“Take it into the other bedroom,” Wes interrupted. “I’m  _ not  _ listening to this. Ember, if you need a rescue, start screaming.”

“Wait, what?” Ember straightened.

“I may like you more than I did in Vegas, but relationships are still bloody fucking minging. I’m not  _ that  _ nice,” Wes said. “Oh, and St. George. Sometime during our lockdown, you and Riley are also going to have a talk about some certain things. Keep that in mind.”

Garret, who had stared down the barrel of a gun without blinking, paled. Then he turned to Ember and gave a strained smile. Ember put the anatomy binder down and followed him into the other bedroom. She took a seat in the desk chair and tried not to look as caged as she felt.

When Garret had left, she had let him go. She had never expected to see him again. She had spent her days tracking down Griffin, running from Faith, and trying to get Wes to teach her first aid. She had tried not to think about Garret, who had left, and who she hadn’t really known in the first place, because there were more solid things in her life. She ignored the dreams where he was there, smiling like the sun, and she woke up cold.

She didn’t know what to do, now that he was back.

“Has Wes been running interference for you?” Garret asked. 

Ember grimaced. “Just a little.”

“You didn’t get along in Vegas.”

“Well… things change. He’s our medic, and I’m trying to learn first aid, so we had to get over ourselves a bit,” Ember explained. Garret furrowed his brow, so Ember continued, “After Vegas, and Faith, and everything… I wanted— or I didn’t want, I guess— Lilith only taught me to kill. And she only taught Faith to kill, and we tried to kill each other, and I shot that sniper and terrified you, and— and it’s just a  _ bad  _ idea to only have one proper medic, because Riley only knows so much, so if Wes dies we are  _ fucked.  _ For so many reasons, but. But I wanted to be able to help, if something goes wrong. And I don’t want fighting to be my only asset. Not that I don’t train in that, too. Riley’s fighting style is different than Lilith’s, but I’m making it work. I do my readings, Riley and I beat each other up, Wes shows me how to ID surface bruises versus bruised ribs.”

Garret nodded.

“You have a new friend, too,” Ember said. “Jade. She’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is,” Garret said. “She’s great. She kidnapped me.”

“What?”

“It was fine. It was a misunderstanding,” Garret waved it off. “And we have… a potential ally in Faith, do you think? You seem to have spent the most time with her.”

“Yeah… I’ll be honest, I don’t know what she is, yet. I’m not sure if she knows what she is, either,” Ember admitted. “I don’t see how Talon could  _ want  _ that information to come to light. Even if they did, there are ways to do that without handing it over to a group of people they don’t have any control over. I don’t know why  _ Faith  _ wants the connection between the two organizations severed, either, but I don’t really know why Faith does anything. So.”

“You said she still has contact with Dante, right?”

“She says she does,” Ember said. “I’d be less inclined to believe her, if she didn’t describe him exactly as I’d expect him to act in Talon.”

“Do you still think he wants you back in Talon?”

“Probably,” Ember sighed. “Do you think Tristan would want to drag you back to the Order, if that was possible?”

Garret snorted. “Most certainly. Kicking and screaming.”

“Do you think he’ll listen to you, if you talk to him?”

“No idea.”

They descended into a silence, both of them orbiting the same topic neither of them wanted to breach. Both of them had lied to each other, when they fell in love, and nothing could change that. 

She still had this feeling, though, deep in her gut. A warmth that she didn’t know what to do with.

“I missed you,” Garret offered. “When I was in England.”

“I missed you, too,” Ember replied. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Neither did I,” Garret said.

There was another silence.

“Our feelings were real, right?” he asked. Ember looked up. “I’ve never been in love before, I don’t know how it works. But I think that what I felt was real, and I think that you felt the same, even if…” he paused.

“Even if nothing else was?” Ember said. Garret winced. “It was as real as it could be, all things considered. I think— I think we both wanted it to be more, if Ember Hill from North Dakota and Garret Sebastian from Chicago were real.”

Garret nodded, pursing his lips for a moment. “That would’ve been nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Certainly less mortal peril, that way. Though you would’ve had to deal with Dante’s twin-brother radar.”

Garret laughed weakly. Not like it was out of practice, like Ember once thought. Like it was a shield, rather than an expression.

“I meant what I said, about sometimes wishing I could be human, so I could be with you. If I  _ was  _ Ember from North Dakota… I would want her to be happy. And she was happy with you.  _ I  _ was happy with you. But I— the real Ember, I guess— I don’t know who I fell in love with,” Ember admitted softly. “I wish I did, but sometimes I feel like I fell in love with you because… because you were Garret from Chicago, in my mind, who took me to a fair the same day Lilith taught me how to disarm a gunman. And you weren’t involved in Talon or rogue empires, and I could just be… I could  _ be _ . Everything that summer was moving too fast, and you were the only thing that felt like it wasn’t. And then— and then… I don’t know. I guess I don’t know who you really are.”

Garret nodded. Took a breath.

“That’s… fair,” he conceded. “Being honest, I don’t know who I am, either. Hell, I’ve spent a total of a month with you, most of which we spent lying to each other, and I still feel like I know  _ you  _ better than I know myself, right now. I spent thirteen years of my life in the Order, and then I came to Crescent Beach. And you taught me how to surf, how to hold a decent conversation, how to… live, really.” He snorted. “Tristan kept telling me I was drowning in my own depression, and I’m somewhat pissed because he was right.”

Ember knew exactly how  _ that  _ felt.

“But when I left the Order and then left you… I realized I don’t have much of an identity. I think I do still love you, and I want to go back to how things were in Crescent Beach, I really do, but— but… I don’t know,” he paused. “Jade is getting to me. Talking about how I need to know who I am before I dedicate myself to something or someone else. That was my problem last time.” He wrung his hands. “I’ve been in the Order for thirteen years. I know I can’t go back, knowing what I know now, and I know I don’t really want to, but I still feel so  _ lost _ without it. And knowing about the Patriarch and Talon  _ sucks,  _ because he was supposed to be better than that. If any human can be incorruptible, it was supposed to be him.” He let out a shaky breath. “And fuck, I miss Tristan.”

“I know. I… get that way too much. And I... miss Dante. More than  _ anything.  _ But hey, we managed to get you out, didn’t we? We don’t have to give up on them, yet.”

Garret nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you did. You’re pretty damn amazing.” He smiled, and it seemed a bit more genuine. “Still friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ember said. “Good friends.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Hey. And maybe, after you’re done with your journey of self discovery, I can meet this Garret fellow,” Ember nudged him. “I hear good things about him.”

That drew out a laugh. “I’d like that. Thanks.” 

There was a silence. Calmer than the last one, not as heavy with unspoken words. It hurt like an open wound, but the air between them didn’t stink of festering infection. She could work with that. They both could.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“It’s Riley,” came the voice on the other side. “Wes said you two were in here. Can I borrow St. George?”

Ember inhaled sharply. Garret stiffened. Riley snorted on the other side of the door.

“I’m not going to murder him, Firebrand. I’ve finished looking through the information. It all looks legit, but I want a soldier’s insight, especially on a few… uh… confusing parts. I don’t want any surprises, and I’m not going to pretend to understand some of this stuff.”

“Uh…” Ember said.

“Also, Wes said that Garret and I need to have a conversation about…” he sighed. “A lot. That we’ve been passive-aggressively sniping at each other.”

“Yeah, we all noticed.”

“Against my better judgment, I agree. We need to clear the air if we want to work together,” Riley continued. “If you’re really worried, I can force Wes to sit in. If you can put up with the bitchy commentary for more than five minutes.”

“Can Jade sit in?” Garret asked.

There was a silence.

“Fine. Evidence, first.” There was a pause. “Will you come out or not?”

Garret stood and opened the door. Riley didn’t look at Ember, or make any comments. He just jerked his head and left for the other bedroom, Garret following behind him. 

There was still a heat in Ember’s chest and fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw Garret. She still saw him and felt part of her ache for a reality that was simpler than the one they had. But her heart didn’t twist as he left. And something in her responded to Riley— to Cobalt, who was really one and the same— but not the same way. It was something stronger, hungrier, something… familiar, almost. Like her entire life, he had always been just out of eyesight, and if she had turned, she would’ve seen him years before. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to follow it the way she wanted to follow Garret. She was barely sure of what it was at all.

And then, in the back of her mind, there was another feeling, excited and cautious and  _ intrigued _ , that she couldn’t quite address. But she couldn’t lie, either, and say she wasn’t on Ember’s mind.

*

Ember, through a miracle of Garret keeping first watch and Jade sleeping on the couch to keep him company, got a room to herself. She finished the anatomy chapter assigned, thought about starting another one, if only to avoid sleep, and then remembered that refusing to sleep would only make her life harder in the long run. 

She debated reminding some certain people in her group of this fact, but she doubted it would do anything.

When she fell asleep, she dreamed of flying in the desert. Dante passed below her, his smaller form gliding to her side. He was more graceful than he usually was, wings aligned properly and scales healthy for once instead of browning in patches, and when she looked at his face, she could see he finally realized why she loved flying so much.

“ _ You should be proud of him, you know,”  _ came a voice. Ember turned, and she was in a warehouse, crates stacked into the darkness above her. 

“I am proud,” Ember said, even though she didn’t know what she was proud of.

“ _ Good, _ ” the voice said behind her. She spun around, and there was a girl in a ratty turtleneck, with a tangle of black curls in her face. She gave a sweet smile full of bloody teeth. “So there’s hope for me, yet.”

She raised a gun and fired.

Ember sat bolt upright as an alarm blared throughout the safehouse. She surged to her feet, scrambling for the gun that Riley made her keep on her beside, trying to shake the sleep and panic from her system, just as—

Her window shattered, and there was someone in her room that hadn’t been there a second before. Ember raised her gun. And gaped. And… this was  _ totally  _ a dream.

There was a lot of iron in the air, for a dream.

“Hey,” Faith rasped, clutching the knife embedded in her stomach. “You’re a medic, now, right?”

And she passed out.

The alarms were still blaring. It was still dark out, probably not past 4:00. Faith was bleeding in her room. Faith wasn’t supposed to know where they  _ were. _

Ember was staring.

Ember was a  _ paramedic in training  _ and she was  _ staring. _

“Fuck,” she muttered, checking Faith’s back for injuries— none that she could see— before rolling her onto her side. Her forearms had taken damage, and there was a gash below her collarbone that was deep and pulsing. There was a  _ knife  _ in her stomach, and what looked like a bruise spanning from her forehead to her jaw. It looked like a fight she wasn’t supposed to get away from.

It looked like what happened when two Vipers were in a disagreement.

Ember felt for a pulse above the collar and pressed down on the vein there with the palm of her hand until the bleeding below her collar slowed. She turned Faith’s head to the side, too, just to make sure she wouldn’t choke on any blood or vomit. Her breathing wasn’t rasping or gurgling, but she didn’t want to take any chances. And there were still cuts— knife wounds on her arms that were bleeding, and the first aid kit was in Wes’ room, and she did  _ not  _ have enough hands for this.

And she wasn’t alone. Right.

“Wes!” she screamed as the alarms shut off. “Faith is bleeding out in my— oh, hi.”

“What the  _ bloody fuck  _ is happening?” he asked, kneeling on Faith’s other side and opening the white kit. “If you tried to kill each other again—”

“She came like this!” Ember yelled back. Wes pulled on a pair of gloves and unzipped the Viper suit before he swore and cut the rest off. 

Ember looked away.

“Now is  _ not  _ the time for modesty, Ember,” he snapped. Ember cringed. “Okay. take her right arm, get a tourniquet and— right, you’re doing great, set a timer for ten minutes and don’t touch the knife. Then put pressure back on her shoulder.”

“Jade, guard Wes and Ember,” she heard Riley ordering, somewhere far away and unimportant to task in front of her. “St. George, we’re doing a perimeter sweep. Keep your phone on, tell me if you see anything, don’t engage if you can help it. Wes, make sure to sedate the Viper before you stab her with anything.”

“Get fucked,” Wes replied as he inserted a needle into Faith’s arm and dosed her with a sedative before turning to her left arm. Most of the cuts were on her outer arm— defensive wounds, she noted, and injuries from barging through a glass window— but one was on her inner forearm, dangerously close to an artery and—

“Now, if you wanted to learn how to patch veins, I’d suggest you look closely.”

They worked quickly to slowly stop the bleeding. First her left arm, which— which suturing veins was really gross, she much preferred Wes handing her gloves and supplies to suture the surface cuts while he dealt with Faith’s shoulder, and—

“Jade, do you have O neg blood by any chance?” Wes asked.

“Yes.”

“Get over here.”

And then, Wes was taking the knife out of Faith’s stomach and cutting past layers of skin and muscle, and Ember was holding layers of flesh out of the way as Wes stitched a hole closed in her small intestine. And just as quickly, Ember was stitching closed a surgical wound and and it was over. Faith had half a pint of blood that wasn’t hers, but it was only half a pint, and Wes was injecting her with a blood clotting agent before he started to work towards pulling all of the glass out of her arms.

“Good job on not throwing up when I cut open part of her stomach. You have a stronger stomach than I did, when I was sixteen,” Wes said. “The stitches aren’t bad, either. Won’t heal nicely, but they’ll hold, and that’s what’s more important.”

Ember gulped and took her gloves off. Her hands weren’t shaking, even though she felt like they probably should’ve been. 

Vipers’ hands couldn’t shake. Lilith had taught her that.

Neither could a medic’s.

“Thanks for the blood,” Wes told Jade.

“She’s still quite pale.”

“Yeah, but her blood pressure and heart rate aren’t dangerous, and I don’t want the Viper to be healthy.”

“These Vipers are much like Talon’s… ah, xionshou, correct?”

Wes grimaced. “I speak three and a half languages and that was none of them. They’re Talon’s— pardon my pronunciation— Kheerini.”

Ember stared at Wes. The pronunciation  _ was  _ horrible. Humans and dragons had different vocal structures, after all. But Wes apparently knew enough draconic to use the correct translation when there were three words for assassin in draconic. He shrugged.

“I live with Riley,” he said, like that was a suitable explanation.

“Speaking of Riley, am I allowed in, yet?” Riley asked from the other side of the door. “I’m not going to kill your patient.” There was a pause. “You let  _ Jade  _ in.”

“Because she has O neg blood. You can come in,” Wes said, pulling his gloves off and standing. Riley opened the door, looking the three of them over in a glance before his eyes landed on Faith.

“Perimeter’s clear. St. George and I checked it. Twice. No sight of anyone else for a mile,” he said, staring at Faith. “I’m starting to think that Faith might not be on our long list of enemies, anymore. How likely is it that she dies?”

“Well, there wasn’t any internal bleeding that I could see, and the knife didn’t puncture anything that I couldn’t repair. There’s possibility of a minor concussion, but chance lasting brain damage is stupidly low. So the biggest concerns are sepsis and, you know, Faith shifting and ripping open her small intestine and one of her veins,” Wes replied. “Or you killing her. Are you going to kill her?”

“No,” Riley shook his head. “I’m not stupid, you know, and I’m not paranoid at the moment. She wouldn’t show up on our doorstep— or, through Ember’s window— unless she didn’t have anywhere else to go. And St. George doesn’t often go after people with  _ knives. _ ”

Ember looked down at Faith, a cold feeling compressing around her skin. She had been trying to avoid that thought— she had been trying to avoid most thoughts that weren’t centered on stopping the bleeding. This wasn’t a hit by St. George. Faith would’ve shifted, and if it came down to the rogues or Talon, she’d go back to Talon. That’s where her allies were.

Unless Talon was the force behind that knife.

“I think it’s high time we get some answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The love triangle dies by my blade and Garret's need for some serious soul-searching and therapy. (I tried to diagram the potential romance arcs in this series. It's an amorphous blob. Installment two is going to be a lot of fun.)
> 
> Three more weeks, guys! How are we feeling?


	18. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter was short. And then I realized. It's 3,000 words. I'm realizing that I'm averaging at over 3000 words per chapter, which... is certainly a change from my earlier works. Growth?
> 
> Or maybe Faith just has a lot to say, considering this is the only story (thus far) where she doesn't die in Vegas.

Faith woke up to a sharp pain in her stomach and a dull throb in her head. The world was there, but she was adjacent to it, unable to process anything around it. She just knew the pain and the cold. And…

“ _ Look, St. George. I’m glad you came back and you told us about the Patriarch, because we would’ve died without that information. You obviously have some sort of moral compass. Which is something I never thought I’d say about a soldier.” _

_ “Thanks?” _

_ “But it’s... really hard to trust anyone, so don’t take it personally when I say I still don’t trust you. It’s not even about Ember, really. It’s just that Basilisks and ex-Basilisks are built specifically not to trust people. Being on the run for a decade doesn’t really give you the disposition to start doing trust exercises, either.” _

_ “I see. That makes sense. Uh… thanks for not shooting me or Jade.” _

_ “Next time you fuck off to England, talk to Wes and make sure you can contact us. Also, give his parents flowers, or something. They still think their son is dead.” _

_ “Ouch.” _

_ “Yeah, we’re not changing their opinion of that anytime soon.” _

_ “ You know, if it helps... Ember and I talked. We’re not, uh, pursuing a relationship. With the whole… both of us were lying about our identities, and I don’t have much of an identity right now, and Ember’s obviously focused on other things. Like, suddenly she’s friends with Wes.” _

_ “That was a surprising development on my end, too, and I saw it unfold… it’s good to know where the two of you stand.” _

_ “Yeah. And you obviously make her happy, so… I’m happy for you two.” _

_ “Wait what?” _

_ “Aren’t you together?” _

_ “Uh… Kinda? Not really. We’ve both been busy, and I’ve never been in a relationship, so I have no idea what I’m doing. And Wes is a professional mood ruiner, so… oh fuck, she’s awake.” _

Faith had managed to crack her eyes open to discover, more by sight than by feeling, that she was laying on a couch. Two figures were sitting on chairs across from her, and both were staring at her. One was a dragon in human form, with brown skin and piercing gold-brown eyes, wearing a leather jacket. The other was a human in every sense of the word, with the build and posture of a Gila.

Cobalt and Garret Xavier Sebastian, her sleep addled brain supplied. They were rogues, and she was with them because… because…

“Hi, Faith,” Cobalt greeted. “You certainly gave us a shock a few hours ago. Can you understand me?”

The words were slow in her mind, but they were getting sharper, getting easier to understand.

“Yeah.” She pushed herself into a sitting position. Considering the injuries she had sustained, she was in less pain than she expected. “Hi, Cobalt... and Garret. Haven’t seen you since I tried to murder you, good to see you recovered.”

“Uh…” Garret looked at Cobalt. “I’m going to get Ember.”

“You go do that.”

Faith rubbed her head, feeling a deep bruise beneath her palm, and looked down at her bandaged arms. That… that had happened. 

This was bad.

“So, Ember tells me you’re the one responsible for delivering to us a certain box of evidence,” Cobalt said as Garret retreated. “And then, less than twenty-four hours later, you show up at our safehouse, bleeding out. I have a lot of questions, and I don’t think you’re in a position to refuse to answer them.” There was a pause. Faith didn’t deny that claim. “Due to the nature of your injuries, you have internal stitching. They’re dissolvable, but if you shift within the next two weeks, they’ll tear, and that can lead to things from sepsis to bleeding out again. So… do us all a favor and don’t.”

“Okay,” Faith said. The world sharpened the rest of the way, and she shook her head, as if that would clear the drowsiness of blood loss. “I guess I have some explaining to do. I…” she paused. 

She wasn’t great at explanations when she was telling the truth.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Let’s start with how you found us.”

“Tracker. I stuck it between the layers of cardboard, in case I needed to— to…” she paused again, collecting her thoughts. “I’m no idiot. I knew what I was doing was dangerous, and if things went downhill, your group was the best combination of having the resources to help and the least likely to kill me.”

Cobalt nodded. His expression was unreadable in a way that made Faith want to squirm. It was how Mist had looked at her, before they became…

“What, exactly, went downhill?”

Faith nearly cringed at that. She knew what went downhill. She remembered sleeping in her car and the headlights approaching, the glint of a knife and the gashes on her forearm, the blood on her hands and face, and how she ran because—

Because Vipers were hard to kill.

“Talon has pronounced me rogue.” Faith was grateful her voice managed to stay even when she spoke. “I was non hostile, and I could’ve gone back with minor consequences, but they still sent a Viper to find me. When they did, we… he snuck up on me. I was sleeping. I acted out of reflex more than anything. It didn’t end well, but I lived.” she paused. “He didn’t, if you were wondering, and Talon never had access to the tracker I put in that box, so they don’t know where you are.”

Riley nodded slowly. Faith looked away. She had asked questions that she wasn’t meant to ask, while she was hunting down Ember. Made some decisions that didn’t align with Talon’s agenda, to put it lightly. She gave secrets to a rogue empire in order to preserve her own goals that she didn’t totally understand. But through all of that, she knew that she could go back, if she needed to. (Even if she hadn’t been planning on going back for a while, now, and she knew it.)

She had killed an agent of Talon. There was no going back, now.

“Why did you give us information about the Patriarch and Talon?”

And that.  _ That  _ was way too complicated to explain. Or maybe it was quite simple, but she thought of Ember or Dante and her throat closed up before she could get the words out of her chest.

She tried anyway. She talked about finding out the allegiance (she said she did it alone, even if she didn’t, because she couldn’t implicate Dante or Mist, even if the information would never get back to Talon), and the underground and Ember were important for multiple reasons, and Faith didn’t want them to fall, and no one was allowed to kill Ember but her, which was why she killed Griffin and Holland in the first place.

Being out of Talon gave her so many questions, so many things that didn’t add up, and she needed to answer them before she went back (except she wasn’t going back anymore because she killed Arison). And yes, she broke into the Vault alone, no, she didn’t have help—

“You’re lying.”

Faith tensed.

“Most Vipers don’t even know the Vault exists, and only Basilisks or Monitors are allowed in. You’re lying. Why?”

“I’m not lying.” She wasn’t going to sell Mist out. Even if they weren’t allies anymore, because Faith wasn’t— she wasn’t part of Talon anymore, and Mist was. But they  _ had been,  _ and that…

(When did it start to matter?)

“You’re defending someone.”

That wasn’t from Cobalt, but Ember, who was standing in the doorway leading to what she assumed was a bedroom. Faith snapped her mouth shut, feeling her body go cold for a reason that wasn’t bloodloss.

Their last conversation, it had been hard to look Ember in the eye. The clone of the Elder Wyrm, Lilith’s other protege, Faith’s mission that she’d never complete. Someone who acted so  _ real,  _ more real than anyone she had met in Talon, and who didn’t know that she  _ wasn’t.  _

Faith hadn’t been able to tell Dante. She couldn’t tell Ember, either, even if they both deserved to know.

“Whoever it is, we won’t let the information get back to Talon,” she continued.

“I’m not defending anyone.”

“Oh, did the Viper make friends?” Cobalt smirked.

“They’re not my—” Faith started and cut herself off with a hiss, because she had fallen into that. The smirk disappeared from Cobalt’s face as quickly as a mask would. “ _ Shit. _ ”

“So. Your allies,” Cobalt said. “I need a bit of information on them.”

“It wasn’t Dante, if you were wondering,” Faith said. “He had nothing to do with this.” He did, even if he didn’t know the full story, but the less people knew about that, the better. “The information’s all legit. I don’t know what else you want.”

“It is legit, I’ll give you that,” Cobalt conceded. “But I’m interested in why someone was willing to risk Talon’s wrath for a few files.”

“She didn’t want the underground to fall. I don’t know why. I didn’t ask. And I— I’m not telling you who, because if anyone found out—”

“We’re not part of Talon,” Ember said. “And we wouldn’t sell out a potential ally.”

Faith cringed. She  _ had  _ been an ally. A good ally, a good… friend. But Faith couldn’t expect that to continue. It wouldn’t be safe.

It would probably be smart to throw the burner phone away.

“It’s not safe. If word got back to Talon, they’d kill her before she had a chance to run. The less people know about what we did and who all was involved, the safer it is. I’m sure you can understand,” Faith said. Cobalt gave her an expectant stare, and she let out a long breath. “Please. She’s… I’m in her debt. I can’t sell her out to anyone.”

Cobalt cocked his head to the side, golden eyes unrelenting as he stared at her. Faith knew why. She was a Viper. Vipers were loyal to their superiors and to Talon. No one else. And it wasn’t necessarily  _ loyalty— _

(Yes it was.)

“She was obviously willing to risk a lot, if she’s still inside Talon,” Cobalt said. “Which is why I’m guessing you came to us instead of… her.”

“You would be correct,” Faith replied. “We agreed that if something happened to one of us, we would conveniently forget the other’s existence. I’m not dragging anyone down with me.”

“You’re showing a lot of care, for a Viper,” Cobalt said. “Lilith would disapprove.”

Faith winced. “She’d disapprove of most things I’ve done in the past six weeks.”

“Is my brother involved in your... group?” Ember asked. “I’m assuming it’s a group.”

“He…” Faith paused. Took a breath. Ember already knew that Faith and Dante had been in contact. “Yes.”

“He’s committing  _ treason? _ ”

“He  _ was  _ committing… semi-legal acts. He didn’t know about giving you information to directly combat one of Talon’s operations. We decided that it was best he didn’t know. My friend and I both have the advantage of being far out of Talon’s spotlight. Dante Hill doesn’t. And he was... having a shitty enough day.”

Cobalt let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “Well, that is either an incredibly convoluted lie, or you went rogue in the worst way possible. My condolences.”

“Thanks.”

“I do have a few more questions,” Cobalt said, holding up a plain notebook. Faith winced. “You take detailed notes. Can I ask what this is?” As if he didn’t already know.

Faith let out a long breath. He didn’t know everything.

“Everything I had on your underground,” Faith said. “Not much, obviously. The, uh, the back page has a list of names.”

“Yeah, Sadie Barnes, who I got out two years ago; Joseph White, who helps Wesley with decoy safehouses; Gigi Thompson, who has a temp safehouse for quick placements, etcetera, etcetera. How did you find these names?”

“Holland was a snitch, and I pulled apart some of Griffin’s intelligence reports. Those were his… friends. Whether they’re traitors or just have loose lips around someone they thought they could trust… I don’t know. I’d kill them, if I were you.”

Cobalt was silent for long enough that Faith could practically hear him counting backwards from ten.

“We don’t kill people without concrete justification in this underground,” he said slowly. “These people will be dealt with. The safehouses you seem to have found will be shut down. In a way, this is good news for us.”

“You’re welcome?”

Cobalt snorted. “I’m going to have to talk with Wes and… everyone about what to do with you,” he stood. Faith tensed. “We’re… we’re not going to kill you. There’s just a lot to figure out.”

Faith nodded, and tried not to sound scared (even though she was  _ scared _ ) when she said, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Cobalt paused, then nodded. “I understand.”

He left Ember and Faith alone. Faith didn’t mind, except that she also did. Ember was something else. Something she had never experienced, and someone she still couldn’t understand. Things were more complicated than they were when she was a Viper. (When she  _ had been,  _ because… because she wasn’t one anymore.)

(That hurt.)

“How’s your chest?” Ember asked, breaking the silence between them.

“It’s okay. Healed, mostly,” Faith replied. “Your burns look well cared for. Though I’m guessing you didn’t get a graft.”

Ember snorted. “No. Funnily enough, when your medic is used to patching up dragons, he doesn’t know much about how to handle a third-degree burn.”

Faith smiled in spite of the situation. Despite who she was sitting next to. Lilith’s student, Dante’s sister, the Elder Wyrm’s project, whatever that entailed.

Ember Hill. 

“Thank you,” Faith said, and realized she genuinely meant it. “For letting me live in Vegas. I know an act of mercy when I see one, and I hope you don’t regret it. I’m… grateful.” She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks for saving my life a few hours ago, too. I don’t plan to make a habit of this.”

“It was mostly Wes, the first time around,” Ember said. “But… you’re welcome. You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.” Faith leaned back against the cushions. “What do you think they’ll do with me?”

Ember let out a long breath. “I don’t know. They probably don’t know, either. You’re… I don’t think they’ve encountered someone like you, before.”

“I mean, there’s Garret, isn’t there? He was part of St. George.”

“Garret didn’t try to kill us, though.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Faith conceded. “I… am not good at apologies, but I’m sorry about conning you. And trying to make you kill the soldier. And… trying to kill you. And saying that Dante gave me orders to do it. I think that’s all, right?”

Ember laughed. “You’re  _ really  _ bad at apologies.”

“Vipers aren’t naturally apologetic.”

“You have that right,” Ember nodded, looking over Faith. Faith looked away. “I can forgive you for what you did. You were a Viper, and I was a target. Besides. You seem to have changed enough to learn from that particular mistake.”

Faith nodded. She  _ had _ changed. Grown. She had met a librarian who gave food and a bed to a stranger, simply because she could. She had killed without orders. She had… 

She had found allies in Dante and Mist, even if they weren’t supposed to be, and even if they weren’t anymore.

“I think your brother will be okay,” Faith said. Ember looked at her sharply. “He misses you. I don’t think  _ that  _ will change. But he’s…” she paused to take a breath and push down the rising feeling in her chest, whenever she thought about his proximity to the Vessel project and what that meant. (She wondered, if she was a good person, whatever a  _ good person _ was, would she tell Ember the truth? Would she be able to tell Ember why she hadn’t been able to stop staring in Chicago?)

(That reality was too terrifying for Faith to touch, let alone speak aloud.)

“He’s not safe in Talon. I don’t think anyone is. But he’s as safe as he can be, and he has someone in the organization that’s watching his back. I think… I hope she’ll look after him. And he’ll look after her.”  
Ember nodded slowly. “I’m assuming this is your mysterious _contact._ ”

“Yes. She’s… she has a good head on her shoulders. And so does Dante. I think she cares, as much as it’s possible for someone like her to care.”

“You really can’t tell us who she is?”

“I don’t want to, no,” Faith said. There was a silence between them. Ember stayed at a careful distance, just out of Faith’s arm range. Faith didn’t mind. Ember wasn’t the naive girl she had met in Vegas, like Faith wasn’t the vengeful killer Ember had fought.

“Did you two  _ really  _ manage to keep a coral snake a secret from Talon for seven months?”

“Wait, Dante told you about Coconut?”

“Her full name was  _ Coconut? _ ”

“Yeah, Coconut the coral snake!” Ember grinned. “We kept her in an old cooler and fed her salamanders and jerky! She was the only interesting thing that came of that year, and I think I learned more from her than I did in any of my academic classes. And don’t let Dante convince you he didn’t love her or that he was innocent in the entire ordeal, he was just as obsessed as I was, it got to the point that Coco would let him pick her up without— you’re staring.”

Faith blinked. She  _ was  _ staring. She hadn’t meant to. It was just… hard  _ not  _ to.

The Elder Wyrm’s science experiments, whatever they were created for, spent their childhood in the desert, raising a coral snake named Coconut. In Faith’s mind, Ember was more real than the Elder Wyrm was. And that sparked enough emotions that Faith couldn’t identify, without addressing the warm feeling in her gut, bubbling under her skin like molten gold.

“Am I?” Faith blinked. “Uh… sorry. I’m a bit spacey, still. Arison kicked me in the head, and the bloodloss is  _ not  _ helping. I… I think I’m going to go back to sleep, until you figure out what to do with me.”

Ember furrowed her brow. “Okay. I guess that you  _ did  _ take a pretty big hit. I’ll wake you when we have news.”

Faith nodded. She laid down properly and closed her eyes. She  _ was  _ tired, even if that wasn’t the reason she was ending their conversation prematurely. If the rogues were going to kill her, they would’ve already done it. Sleeping was better than dodging questions or trying to place her own roiling emotions.

Her life and future as she had known and planned it, was over. In many ways, Faith was dead. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t know who she would become. She was a rogue, now, no going back, and she didn’t know what all that entailed. And she was still keeping secrets, and Talon still had secrets, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to untangle them all.

She heard Ember approach closer, close enough that Faith could touch her. Grab her. Attack her, if she wanted   
She dropped a blanket over Faith’s shoulders and retreated again. Faith took a breath and tried to relax.

Whatever future she had to create, whatever life she had to leave, she was safe, if only for another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark it now: 66,000 words in, I actually start poking at the mutual pining part of the romance plotline (Yay!). For anyone who came on this ride solely for the enemies-to-lovers subplot, I applaud you for getting this far, and promise that it's not getting any faster from here. :)


	19. Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically I'm still on time in my timezone! I forgot how much editing work this chapter needed, but editing has been DONE, and I am satisfied.

Faith slipped in and out of the next twenty-four hours. The rogues kept a somewhat consistent watch, taking their meals in the living room, talking about the Patriarch, the underground, and the names in Faith’s notebook. A few times, she wondered why they’d talk about anything bordering on sensitive information when they were so close to a Viper. And then she’d remember that she wasn’t a Viper anymore, and roll over to go back to sleep.

When she woke up the second time, she felt distinctly less like a waterlogged corpse, but still only stayed up for three hours before drifting back off. Three hours enough time for Cobalt— Riley, everyone called him— to tell her that he didn’t trust her around his friends or his underground, but he didn’t want to leave her to Talon, either. From the sounds of it, they were going to keep her around until after they dealt with the Patriarch.

“It would help your case if you told me who your ever-mysterious contact is,” Cobalt— Riley said. He sat casually in an armchair, a careful distance away from her with a gun in easy reach.

“It won’t make a difference, anyway,” Faith said. “I’m a rogue, now, so it’s not like she’ll help me.”

“Sounds like what she was doing wasn’t on Talon’s wishes, so who knows? Certainly not me,” Cobalt replied. “Look, Faith. I’m not going to threaten you with any interrogations, because frankly, I don’t want to do that again. I haven’t had to do it for twelve years, and I like that. But I  _ also  _ like knowing all the players on the board. It keeps my underground safe. If you want my safety net to be extended to you, I need to know that neither you nor your allies are going to stab us in the back.”

Faith stared at the ceiling and didn’t respond, even if she didn’t know exactly  _ why  _ she was keeping Mist’s identity secret. It would be smarter to hand it over. She knew that. Mist would probably do the same thing if their situations were reversed.

(No. Mist had proven that she wouldn’t.)

“Faith. If your contact doesn’t fuck with us, I won’t fuck with them. I’ll let them be. But I need to be aware of who they are.”

Faith groaned softly. 

“Okay, let’s do a hypothetical. Let’s say… it’s Luther. A bastard that I fucking hate, for reference. He shot Wes once.”

“Wait, you’ve been shot?” Ember said, looking up from her papers. 

“That’s a timed test,” Wes replied.

“Anyway. So, now I know that you have a shitty taste in allies, but what can I do?” Riley asked.

“Contact him. Blackmail him with all of the illegal things he did in order to help your underground, which would put him in even more danger,” Faith said. “I’m not telling you anything about her.”

“Even to help secure a position in the only place that will  _ consider  _ offering you shelter?” Riley asked. “I hate to be a total son of a bitch, but you aren’t in the position to argue.”

That was true. Faith hated it, but it was.

“You said that you’d keep me around until you were ready to make a move on the Patriarch?” Faith said. Riley nodded. “Okay. In two weeks, I’ll consider telling you.”

“ _ Faith. _ ”

“I don’t know if you realize this, Cobalt, but I trust you about as much as you trust me. Just because you left Talon and started sheltering hatchlings doesn’t mean you stopped being a Basilisk. So before you start calling me untrustworthy, remember which one of us tortured people for a living, okay?”

There was a long, tense silence. Faith kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

A wadded up piece of paper hit her in the head. Faith jolted and looked over to Ember, who was looking at Wes unrepentantly.

“I’ll take the fail.”

Wes nodded. “Good aim. Do you want a salt shaker to throw?”

Faith was no longer looking at the ceiling, so she managed to catch the salt shaker, and the pepper shaker, and—

“Was that a fucking  _ fork? _ ” Riley shrieked, moving impossibly fast, twisting the fork out of Faith’s grasp and hitting a pressure point in her neck.

The world promptly turned black.

~***~

When she woke up next, the sky was turning golden, and Faith felt almost-normal. When she mentioned this, Wesley made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat.

“Are you jealous?” 

“Took me a month to recover from a bite wound and she’s fine and dandy after eighteen hours. Fuck dragons,” Wesley said. 

“Makes us easier to patch up, though,” Ember pointed out. “Am I doing this right?”

Wes looked away from his laptop long enough to inspect the taping Ember had done over her hand, anchoring her middle to her ring finger. 

“It’s good for a minor fracture, but more severe cases need casts or braces. Now, did you learn your lesson?”

“Use the heel of my hand against hard parts of the body. Or invest in brass knuckles,” Ember said.

“Good.”

“You should really join us in sparring. Self-defense, and all.”

“Riley’s already taught me a few things. I’m not  _ useless _ with a gun.”

“Or a table lamp,” Riley said without turning from whatever he was making in the kitchen.

“Shut up about the bloody table lamp!”

“Table lamp?” Garret repeated.

“I floored some soldier with one and Riley still won’t let me live it down.”

Ember stifled a laugh, and Wes rolled his eyes before turning back to his laptop. Faith slowly sat up, letting out a long breath as the worst of her headache subsided.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Two hours,” Garret responded.

“You need to apologize to Riley,” Ember said. Faith snorted. “I’m not joking.”

“He has to have thicker skin than  _ that, _ ” Faith said.

“You don’t need to defend me,” Riley said at about the same time.

Ember glared. “It was still uncalled for.”

Faith looked away. She didn’t want to admit it, but Ember had a point. She was living off of the underground’s charity— just because she had gotten defensive didn’t mean she had to antagonize the leader of this entire operation. Just because she didn’t have any guilt over her place in Talon— her  _ previous _ place— didn’t mean others didn’t. 

(She had known what she had been saying. She had said those words because she thought they would hurt.)

“I’m sorry for bringing up your previous profession,” Faith said, and tried not to let it sound begrudging. Riley turned from his cooking and leaned his back against the counter, raising his brows. Faith swallowed down her pride (she’d have to get used to that eventually).“It was… rude.”

“Ember’s right,” he smirked. “You  _ do  _ suck at apologies.”

“Well, I’m trying.”

“Eh, it’s not the worst thing someone’s said to me when they wanted me to shut up. Owen went straight to slurs.”

“That aside,” Wes interrupted their conversation. “I have news Faith wants to hear. As does everyone else. I picked up on some chatter across Talon’s networks.”

Faith furrowed her brow. “How?”

Wesley stared at her for a few seconds, dead in the eye, expressionless. No human would have dared do that in Talon, let alone turn back to his computer like she hadn’t said a thing.

“They reported the death of one Viper Agent Arison— no surname. His body was found ten miles north of here, and Miss Faith is the suspected culprit. She’s been marked as hostile, but, good news, they don’t know where she is,” he told Riley. Faith tried not to cringe as how casually he said it. The weather was cloudy and Faith was hostile.

God, what would Lilith think of her? 

(Did… did Faith  _ care? _ )

“Leaving the area’s going to be risky. If we ration properly, we have…” Riley looked among them, brow creasing. “We have two weeks of food, if the dragons are okay with going a bit hungry. I’m instilling a lockdown. Two weeks, no one in, no one out. Keep careful watch on the underground and movements of St. George, tell the hatchlings to evacuate if you have  _ any  _ suspicion of danger. Two weeks, we split like a bat out of hell, and that should be enough time to figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

Everyone nodded. 

“Am I going to be on house arrest for two weeks, then?” Faith asked.

“Yep. Maybe use that time to consider what information is worth your safety.”

“Okay, then.”

She supposed it could be worse. No, she  _ knew  _ it could be worse. Everyone treated her like a threat, definitely, but that’s because she was. They didn’t hurt her, and apparently Riley had factored her into their rationing, even with what Faith had thrown at him. She wasn’t exactly sure why they were letting her stay. She knew that either way, she needed to do something to pay for the favor, if she wanted them to let her stay.

(She needed to tell them about Ember.)

(She… didn’t do that.)

Night slowly settled over them. She heard their group discuss the possibility of taking watches, but they ultimately decided against it. Apparently, having a Viper— ex-Viper, she reminded herself— burst into their safehouse, bleeding from multiple injuries, left everyone fairly exhausted. Wesley said that their security would alert them of anyone entering or exiting.

He said this while glaring at Faith.

“What?” she said. “I’m not about to go back to Talon after I killed a Viper.”

“What about your bloody  _ kidnap Ember Squad? _ ”

Faith stiffened. She thought he was checking on the underground on his computer, but when she actually looked at it, she could see a cord connecting a black flip phone to her computer.

“You stole my  _ phone? _ ”

“Yeah?” he said it like it was perfectly reasonable and expected.

Which, considering the circumstances, it  _ was  _ reasonable and expected.

“Can I have it back?” she asked. Wesley raised an eyebrow. Faith tried not to growl at the human. She knew a bit about him, both from the file Talon pieced together, and from Roth had told her in her briefing before the Vegas. Roth had said he had a long history of attitude problems and ‘ _ erratic behavior’,  _ whatever that meant. However, she wasn’t prepared for how  _ insufferable  _ it was. Back in Talon, she would’ve been allowed to kill him.

(Back in Talon, she would have.)

(Riley was looking at her like he knew that, and Ember was looking at her like she didn’t. Faith didn’t know which one hurt.)

“I won’t contact them. Even if I thought they’d help me, which they won’t, Talon’s keeping them…” (Dante was an incomplete experiment and Mist knew too much) “...as safe as they can be. I wouldn’t expect them to abandon that.”

“You’re not getting the phone back. And before you start worrying, I can’t figure out your ever-mysterious contact from it since you didn’t enter her name, so that’s… good planning on your part. And I’ve already taken the batteries out, I’m just trying to scrub the information before I chuck it. No evidence on you.” A flash of pity crossed his face before he turned back to his computer. “Nothing linking them to a rogue, either.”

Faith nodded. Vipers didn’t have friends, anyway, and neither did Chameleons or Basilisks. This was for the best.

(She didn’t want it to be.)

It took a while before the safehouse settled down. Wes, Riley, and Garret were sharing a room, Jade and Ember were sharing the other, leaving Faith alone in the main room. She hadn’t missed that Wes setting up security included security on the doors leading to the other rooms, barring her from any of the underground as they slept.

Faith had spent the day sleeping, so she stayed up through the night. They didn’t trust her, she didn’t trust them, and she didn’t have a security system.

(Only difference being that they had a  _ reason  _ not to trust her.)

A floorboard creaked in the hall. 

Faith sat up, instantly on alert. The darkness was nearly absolute around her, but she could make out a blurry figure, standing still against the dark walls. She wasn’t a Talon agent anymore, she was a rogue, and rogues had a  _ lot  _ of enemies. If Lilith was coming to amend her mistake, Faith didn’t think there was anything to be done. Even if she  _ could  _ alert the underground, which this person was obviously giving her the time to do—

The figure stepped out of the shadows, into the moonlit room.

It wasn’t Lilith. 

(Faith almost wished it had been.)

Mist approached, silent as the grave, putting a finger to her lips. 

Faith, like an idiot, obeyed. 

She didn’t know why Mist was here. Mist wasn’t a Viper, it wasn’t her job, but maybe she wanted to clean up loose ends. Maybe it was personal for her. (It was personal for  _ Faith. _ )

Mist turned to the dining room table, where her phone was still sitting. She picked it up and smirked slightly.

“ _ You coming? _ ” she mouthed, jerking her head towards the window.

Faith looked around the safehouse. In the other rooms, the beating hearts of the rogue underground were asleep, and killing all of them wouldn’t bring her back to Talon with favor. And yet, there was a Talon agent in front of her, who had yet to raise a weapon.

She might stay safe, if she stayed with the underground. But the underground didn’t know what to do with her, and she didn’t know what to do with them. Mist was from Talon, but at least they knew each other. 

And Mist was getting her out for a reason. Faith would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t insatiably curious.

(And, some desperate part of her whispered, it was  _ Mist. _ )

Mist lead her through the safehouse, out a window, and was able to point out the small gap in the otherwise airtight security. Faith stepped exactly where Mist stepped and managed to pass through safely out without setting off any alarms before they headed into the woods. 

Mist was still silent, only looking back to make sure Faith was following. Faith had every reason  _ not  _ to follow.

She did anyway.

An unmarked car sat at the edge of the road. Something stolen, not Talon-issued. She slid into the driver’s side and let Faith into the passengers.

“You’re fucked,” Mist said, almost conversationally.

“So why did you help a dead woman?” Faith replied. “Straight answers this time, Mist.”

“I have my reasons,” Mist turned on the car. “I’m not taking you back to Talon, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I said  _ straight answers, _ ” Faith repeated. “Don’t play me like I’m dumb. Talon didn’t want you to leak that information, and Talon  _ certainly  _ doesn’t know you’re here. How did you even find me?”

“Phone,” Mist said, tossing it at Faith before she started driving. Faith caught it and opened it before remembering the battery had been removed. There probably wasn’t much left on it, considering it had been in the hands of Wesley Higgins for a few hours.

“I suppose I owe you a bit of an explanation,” Mist sighed. “Putting it simply, I work for Talon. It’s convenient, it keeps me protected, it gives me access to resources that rogues don’t have. However, there are some people within Talon whose intentions don’t directly match up with the Elder Wyrm. I work for them, too.”

Faith crossed her arms. “And these people are…”

“Powerful and much older than I am. Also confidential, so I’m not going to press my luck.”

“Moles?”

“Not exactly. It depends on the mission, the goals, the risks and gains for any given situation. Sometimes Talon gives me a mission and I complete it, other times I do other things on top of that mission, sometimes I conveniently fail. My employer asked me to keep an eye on you. I don’t know if it was because he wanted to recruit you or because you were considered a loose canon, but I wasn’t one to question orders. When Dante got involved, I was also ordered to keep tabs on the both of you. So I did.”

She said it without looking at Faith, instead focusing on the road, so she didn’t catch the twitches Faith couldn’t keep off of her face.

“He happens to want the Patriarch dead, if you were wondering.”

“And what does he want with me, now?” Faith asked, keeping her voice calm and steady.

“Nothing,” Mist replied. She grimaced. “This… this is a bit more of a personal decision. With the state of the underground, it’s not the safest place to be a prisoner. Not until after the Patriarch is handled, at least. Being a solitary rogue isn’t the safest thing, either, but at least you’re a smaller target. With Talon’s focus on the underground and Asia, they’re more inclined to let you slip through the cracks.”

Faith blinked. Mist was working for Talon. Mist was working for someone  _ inside  _ Talon, with goals that sometimes lined up with the Elder Wyrm’s and sometimes didn’t. This employer wasn’t responsible for Mist’s rescue.

That… actually made a lot of sense.

“What was your plan if I didn’t come with you?” Faith asked. “Or if they had caught you?”

“Uh… leave you be, and run like hell.”

Faith couldn’t help it— she snorted on a laugh, even though it quickly turned into a cough. Mist cracked a grin, too, even though it quickly sobered. She drummed her fingers on the wheel, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Faith waited.

“You’re marked hostile,” she said quietly. “Dante heard about it before I did, actually. He’s… really pissed.”

Faith cringed. After Ember went rogue, this had to feel personal for him.

“So I guess crashing at his apartment isn’t on the table, then,” she said.

“Probably not. I’d try to get off the grid, if I were you,” Mist said. “Uh… I’m keeping my phone. I’m still on orders to keep tabs on Dante, so the number will be the same if you—” she paused and groaned softly. “I can’t believe you two. I got twenty-one years in my life without caring about anyone on a personal level, and then you two idiots stumble in like a couple of assholes. If you need something that I can provide without putting myself in harm’s way, you can call. Not making any promises past that.”

“I think Wesley killed my phone.”

“Then get a new one. You memorized the number, didn’t you?”

Faith nodded.

“Okay. I’ll pick up. I can do that much,” she said. “But until then... I have forty dollars for a one-way bus ticket to nowhere. It’s all yours.”

“Understood,” Faith replied. She swallowed and took a breath, forcing the next words past her lips. “It’s good to know you’re still—” she paused. “You’re still on a side that doesn’t want me dead.”

“Eh… don’t take it too personally. I have a feeling that my employer still has interest in you. It’s rare, for a Viper to turn like you did,” Mist smirked.

“Of course. Nothing personal.”

“You understand.”

“I do.”

(It was safer for both of them, that way.)

~***~

Faith took a bus to Columbus, Ohio, and staked out a bank for a few hours before she decided it would be much easier to track down a gang or loanshark and rob them. Four dead bodies, a cracked safe, and 4,000 dollars later, she stole new clothes— they still covered her neck and arms, even if there wasn’t a suit to conceal anymore— and took a cab to somewhere as off-the-grid as possible.

She ended up at an Amish Bed and Breakfast, because the Amish weren’t associated with Talon or St. George, and electronic ways of tracking weren’t as prevalent in the area. It was boring to have nothing to do, nothing to strive for, nothing to dedicate her life to, but at least she had a life. Which was more than she could say for Arison.

More than she could say for those four people in Columbus, too. And Mister Holland. And Griffin Walker.

Faith didn’t know what she was supposed to  _ do  _ with herself.

She ended up trying to fix her phone. She had to do some work, but Wesley hadn’t destroyed it completely. It didn’t have any history or minutes left, and Dante and Mist’s information was erased, but when she checked, she still had the same number. So if either of them called her...

Except she was a rogue. So they wouldn’t.

(Would they?)

After two days of staying in a sleepy town, eating midwestern food and talking to absolutely no one, going into town just long enough to get more minutes for her phone, Faith had decided that she had about three options to seriously consider. There were plenty of things she wanted to be options— calling Mist or Dante for the familiarity they provided, tracking down the rogues after she just abandoned them because they were  _ doing something,  _ showing up at that nice librarian’s house and asking to stay there— but they wouldn’t work. She had to think rationally.

Option one, of course, was to stay low. Assimilate into a new life and hope that Talon didn’t find her. She could stay here and try to pick up a lifestyle that kept her from Talon’s sights, or move to a country they didn’t have control over. China wasn’t under Talon’s control, and if she could swallow her pride enough to ask for refuge, the Shen-Lungs didn’t have a reason  _ not  _ to help her. It wouldn’t be the life she always expected to have. It wouldn’t be the life she had strived for. But the world was big, and there was plenty out there to experience.

Option two was a shorter life, but it got more done, and it kept things interesting. She knew plenty of people who would do best to die. It would be interesting to see how many people she could take out before someone caught up to her. Dr. Olsen would be easy. The Patriarch would be harder, but it could be done. The leader of the Eastern Chapterhouse, whoever he was, gave Talon issues. Lilith would tie up loose ends, no matter which of them made it out.

Option three was to go back to Talon. Probably to be locked in a small room for the rest of her life or to be executed, but at least she knew what to expect from that.

Faith rolled those options around in her mind, mulling over which one was realistic, which one was safe, if she  _ wanted  _ to be safe or to go out in a blaze of glory, or if she just wanted to skip most of the steps and get it over with. 

Her phone rang.

Faith sat up on the bed, staring at the burner phone in complete bewilderment. Mist and Dante were the only people who had this number, Dante was angry with her, and Mist didn’t know if the number was in use. It made no sense for either of them to be calling her, so it made no sense for her to respond to it. It was probably a trap. It was definitely a trap.

But she recognized the number. And she could claim curiosity all she wanted, but she was starting to know herself a bit better than that.

Faith opened her phone, because she was an idiot.

“What is it?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Faith nearly dropped the phone. Not because of who was on the other end— though she had half expected it to be one of his superiors— but because of the sound of his voice. It was strained, cracking around the edges in a way that she hadn’t even heard when he was chain-smoking on his balcony.

“Why?” Faith asked. She hated the sound in his voice, but he was an agent of Talon, and he was loyal to the empire before his own sister (Was he, anymore? Was he ever, really?). “I don’t think I’d be welcome around one of Talon’s brightest Chameleons.”

“You think I don’t  _ know that?”  _ Dante hissed. “I know you killed a Viper, and that you’re hostile, but— but I need to talk. It’s not a trap. I wouldn’t— even if I— look. Talon won’t show up. I promise.”

“A promise from a Chameleon isn’t worth much,” Faith said. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. She had the distinct feeling it wasn’t a Chameleon’s silence. “That was… uncalled for. I’m sorry. Look, if you— if there’s a problem, if something’s wrong, talk to Mist. She’s still in Talon, and she’ll help. I promise.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Yes it is.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mist is still part of Talon,” Dante snapped.

It was Faith’s turn to go silent.

_ Fuck. _

“I— I’m not going rogue, I didn’t  _ do anything  _ and I’m going to, but I need to talk, and I don’t— Mist gave me this phone and she’s a Basilisk, and I’m—” Dante cut himself off. 

Faith wasn’t good with emotions. None of them were. Mist and Dante were the closest things she had to friends in Talon, but there was still a level of distrust among all of them, because people in Talon didn’t  _ trust.  _ There was always a plot behind a curtain, information to be gathered, a knife through the back in order to further someone else’s career. The three of them didn’t talk about emotions because that complicated things. They weren’t—

They weren’t  _ friends.  _ Because it complicated things.

Dante had to be  _ desperate  _ if he was coming to Faith.

(Things were already complicated, anyway.)

“You’re what?” Faith said carefully.

“I’m scared.”

He was a Chameleon, and she was a rogue. It was as simple as that.

(He sounded scared.)

“Please?” he whispered.

Faith thought over her options. Staying low, killing as many people she could, or turning herself in. None of which were good options in her eyes.

She decided that this was certainly one way to avoid the decision for a while longer.

“Where should we meet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time with the rogue underground was... short lived. :/ What can I say? The amoral murder teens take priority, and Team Vegas will reign eternal. Amen.
> 
> So, with one chapter left of book 1, how are we feeling?


	20. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Uh. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day. This is the last chapter of this installment, which is... a lot to think about for me. I've spent close to two years working on this. I spent two years leading up to this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Faith arrived twelve hours before she was supposed to. The safehouse was the same as it was the last two times she had visited with Mist and Dante, the cabin small and unassuming in the middle of nowhere. She still monitored it, waiting for any sign of a trap. Dante let her hide out in his apartment and bought food for her, they had talked on his balcony about going rogue, but that was still when she was working for Talon (trying to, at least). She wasn’t part of Talon, anymore.

She didn’t know how much that would change things between them. (She didn’t know what was more daunting: everything changing, or nothing at all.)

When the evening grew dark around her, a single car pulled into the gravel path, and Dante stepped out alone. No one from Talon. No Mist, either (there was something in the air that felt wrong, for them to meet in this safehouse while missing the third part of their… their…)

(What were they, now?)

He was dressed in a suit, which Faith supposed was to be expected. A grey three-piece, as usual, perfectly put together like Talon’s favorite dress-up doll. He sat on the edge of the porch and lit a cigarette, as if to be completely contrary to that image.

Faith approached. He didn’t look up.

“Can I have one?”

“Help yourself.”

Faith sat down beside him and took Dante’s offered cigarette and lighter. She didn’t put it to her mouth. She didn’t like the taste of smoke, nor did she want to sacrifice any more of her lung function than what had already been compromised. But at the same time, this seemed better than letting Dante smoke alone. She didn’t ask what he wanted to talk about, because  _ he  _ was the one who had asked to meet with her. This wasn’t an interrogation. It was…

She didn’t know.

(She did.)

“The Vessel project is in its final testing phase,” Dante said softly. “They’re well-trained. Talon wants— they want me to do a live run.” He took a drag and let it out, flicking ash onto the gravel. “There’s a trailer town of forty-two people in Arkansas. No one will miss it when they— and I’m in charge, I have to run it, there’s no way to  _ turn down  _ an order, but it’s  _ forty-two people.  _ They didn’t do anything. It’s not some monastery that’s giving children to the Order, or a rogue syndicate, it’s a bunch of nobodies who are poor enough that no one will ask questions if Talon wipes them off the map. And— and…” he tugged a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did,” Faith responded.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m allowed to talk to anyone else honestly. Spend ten hours every day in a room with people twice my age, even the  _ humans,  _ and  _ I _ know I’m too young to be leading this project, and  _ they  _ know I’m too young to be leading this project, but Roth keeps ignoring Bane when he passive-aggressively implies that I should be moved somewhere else. And— and I agree! I should be! I’m a Chameleon, not a Basilisk or a Viper. I’m  _ sixteen.  _ I’m supposed to be paper pushing or shadowing people at this age. Why the hell am I in charge of this? Who thought this was a good idea?”

His voice started to raise and crack. Faith didn’t stop him from speaking, or tell him to calm down. She knew it was only forty-two people, and she had killed more than that before she had even finished her training, but it mattered to Dante. He was the type of person to care about a body count.

(She also knew why he was working on the Vessel project. The thought of telling him made her nauseous.)

“And I know it’s Talon, and it’s not my place to question orders, but Talon’s tried to kill my sister, and they tried to kill  _ you,  _ and I don’t even know why these things are necessary when we already have Vipers to take out St. George! We don’t need these things, we don’t  _ need  _ to kill forty-two people. Hell, we don’t even need to kill the rogues!  _ Shit! _ ”

“Dante—”

“I’m not supposed to say that. I’m not— I’m a Chameleon, I work for Talon, I’m not allowed to say that. It’s not  _ safe  _ to say things like that.” he took another drag, forcefully relaxing his shoulders when he let it out. “I  _ do  _ want to succeed. I want to be part of Talon, I owe it  _ everything—” _

“Talon isn’t here,” Faith interrupted. “Remember? I’m…” she took a deep breath. “I’m not a Viper. You don’t need to justify anything to me, anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. I still shouldn’t be saying it. I— I betrayed my twin for Talon, I made a choice in Crescent Beach that I can’t take back. Now is  _ not  _ the time to be having second thoughts. But it’s  _ forty-two people.  _ Talon doesn’t need them dead. They certainly don’t need  _ me  _ to run this! I— I  _ failed  _ the Vegas mission! I nearly got you and Mist killed! I shouldn’t be running this!”

“Dante, you didn’t—”

“I hate this!” he screamed. Faith recoiled. “I hate the Vessels so much, they’re horrifying, they can’t  _ think,  _ Talon made them so they can’t think, so they’d be these— these perfect little dolls—” Faith cringed “—and no one seems to think anything’s wrong with that! No one! Doctor Olsen is  _ thrilled,  _ he treats them like they’re his— like they’re his masterpieces, or something, and—” He cut himself off, drawing his knees to his chest. He finished his cigarette and started on another one. Faith didn’t stop him.

“And what?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. She wasn’t someone who comforted. She wasn’t a confidant. But for Dante— for either of the people she had worked with in this one-room cabin— she would try.

“He looks at me the same way he looks at them,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Like I’m another interesting factor of this project, or like I’m— I don’t know, I don’t  _ know.  _ I don’t know if I’m imagining things, but he’s— he’s— I don’t like being alone with him, and he keeps trying to get me alone or after hours, and I don’t know why he’s so interested in  _ me  _ instead of literally anyone else. And I thought that if I just worked with him a few times and let him run the tests then he’d leave me alone afterwards, but he  _ hasn’t,  _ and I’m into this way too deep to get out now, but I— I— I don’t  _ like  _ him.”

Faith’s breath didn’t catch, but it became much more carefully regulated. Her throat itched with acrid smoke that distinctly  _ didn’t  _ leave an aftertaste of nicotine.

Dr. Olsen looked at Dante the same way he looked at the Vessels. He didn’t see Dante as anything sentient.

What did the rest of Talon think of him, then? How many people knew about it? His trainer? His supervisors? Everyone else working on that project? What would they do to him, once they decided to abandon the charade of acting like he was something more than—

He was her fucking  _ friend,  _ goddammit.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m  _ scared. _ ”

Faith did. She had a very good idea of what to do. Anger wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to her, but this was a different kind, righteous instead of jealous, protective instead of order-bound. (Was this what rogues felt, when they were angry? Was this what drove Ember?)

“Refusing to kill that trailer town won’t do anything for them,” Faith said. “They’ll just put someone else in charge and have them give the order.” And Faith did  _ not  _ want to think about what would happen if Talon decided that Dante was no longer useful on the end of the project he was currently working on. “It’s just forty-two people.”

“It’s  _ forty-two people! _ ”

“And? I’ve killed more than that. So has Mist. And once Talon decides a civilian needs to die, they’re dead. No negotiations. Refusing orders won’t do anything but hurt you.”

“But there has to be a way to test this without killing people who have nothing to do with Talon or St. George. And— and Talon works in the shadows, this is dangerous, this is— I don’t— I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

“I’m not a Viper, Faith! I can’t compartmentalize, or whatever you do to keep yourself from going crazy.” 

Faith winced, because it was true. She remembered the first time she had killed— it was a traitor to Talon, set loose in a maze with a single bullet and a promise that, if she killed Faith, she could return peacefully. The bullet had been a blank, and Faith didn’t give her time to fire it. She had thrown up afterward, and Lilith had told her that was natural, and she would have twenty-four hours to collect herself before training continued.

Dante didn’t get the months that Faith did, learning how to kill and how to live with herself afterward. He didn’t have his trainer sit with him and tell him that the lives he would take were forfeit, whether it be because they chose to betray the organization, because they were members of the Order, or because they were simply in the way. He didn’t have any of what Faith had.

Murder, in Faith’s mind, was nothing more than a means to an end. She had long-since come to terms with the fact that she would spend her life killing, and in the end, she’d end the same way her victims did. She might be out of Talon, but that fact wouldn’t change.

“Whatever you decide to do,” Faith said softly. “I won’t blame you. If you kill those people, or if you ask for a reassignment, if you… go rogue, even. I’ll be on your side. I’ll help in whatever way I can.” She paused. “Unless you turn me in, in which case, you’re a dick.”

Dante gave a sharp laugh, followed by a cough.

“No. No, I’m not making that mistake again,” he shook his head. “I’m— I’m not going to go rogue, either. I can’t.”

Faith nodded. She didn’t have to ask what his mistake was— she already knew. She wondered what Mist would say if Dante had called her instead of Faith. (She was grateful it had been her, instead.)

(She wondered what Ember would say.)

“Those people are dead,” Faith said. “There’s nothing you can do about it, so they don’t matter. You need to focus on keeping  _ yourself  _ safe, now. And keeping yourself on the Vessel project might give you a bit of control over what it’s used for.”

“I don’t have any control over it. I’m the person with the  _ least control.” _

That hurt, because it was probably true. Experiments didn’t get to be in charge of how they were handled.

“You will,” Faith said. The anger wasn’t burning, anymore, like a righteous flame. At the end of the day, she wasn’t a righteous person, like Ember or Riley. She never would be. It simmered under her skin like a poison— quiet, patient, and inevitable.

Viper or no, she knew how to kill. The only difference between being in Talon and being a rogue was who she killed for.

~***~

Dr. Olsen owned a two-story house in a suburban area. In Faith’s opinion, it was entirely too large for him, but she supposed it was what a paycheck from Talon could earn. The security was made well, but not well enough. Probably because he wasn’t supposed to be well known within Talon. She could imagine Lilith beside her, coaching a younger, still-in-training Faith through how to scale the wall and crack the lock on the second-story window without leaving any evidence. An ex-Viper shut it carefully and looked around. 

Faith immediately had to resist the urge to shudder.

She was in a child’s room. Or, what had been a child’s room. It now had a desk with a computer, a bookshelf, and a filing cabinet, but that wasn’t enough to hide the wallpaper of dolphins and manatees, nor could it hide the marker scribbles on the wood. Someone had been here. Some child had lived in this room.

Some child  _ had  _ lived in this room.

Faith shook herself. She had fifteen minutes before Olsen’s work would be done, and she had no idea how close he lived to wherever he worked. She tried not to think about Dante, living in an apartment across town, and if Olsen would be late because he had caught his experiment— his  _ masterpiece— _ alone. She purposefully didn’t look through the filing cabinet. She didn’t want to know what information he kept at home.

She made to leave the room of a child that no longer needed the space before something on the desk caught her eye. It was a simple picture frame. She picked it up, narrowing her eyes. She had never seen Dr. Olsen before, but she assumed the pale man in the blue button-down was him. He was smiling genuinely, standing next to a woman with warm toned skin and coily black hair. 

She was holding a kid. Probably the kid who this room had belonged to.They were young, probably only two or three, but Faith  _ swore  _ they looked familiar, somehow. Curly blond hair, lighter than either of theirs, with their mother’s grey eyes. They were grinning widely, wearing a maroon shirt and a bow-tie. So probably a son, then, not a daughter. (The house was too large for one person, but it would be comfortably roomy for a family of three.)

The child looked like he wasn’t supposed to be smiling, in Faith’s mind. More serious. More weathered. And he didn’t belong  _ here,  _ in the room of a scientist she was about to kill.

She took the picture out of its frame and flipped it over. Her blood ran cold.

_ Me, Sarah, and Garret— happy 4th birthday _

Garret.

“The  _ hell? _ ” she heard herself murmur. She didn’t pretend to know much about the soldier Ember had fallen in love with. A ground fighter, around sixteen to nineteen, who had been from the Western Chapterhouse until he committed treason and ran off to join the rogue underground. He had appeared loyal, and Talon wouldn’t make a four-year-old, five-year-old,  _ whenever  _ the Order recruited their soldiers, into a spy. That spy wouldn’t expose the Patriarch.

Did Garret Xavier Sebastian know?

Faith pocketed the picture. That didn’t matter, at the moment. She had a job to do. She could think about what to do with Garret Olsen later.

She closed the door to the study behind her and looked through the other rooms on the second floor. A bedroom that looked less lived in than the office, and a bathroom. The ground floor held a small guest room, a spacious kitchen and dining room that was messier than she expected for a scientist, and a living room. Faith tried not to look at the pictures on the mantle, but she did anyway.

A man and a woman Faith couldn’t recognize. Olsen and his wife— her name had been Sarah when he wrote it down— at their wedding. Sarah in a hospital robe, holding a wrinkly child. Baby Garret holding the hand of—

Faith took that picture, too, because she didn’t recognize the baby Garret was next to, and this house didn’t have any evidence of a living teenager. Then she tucked herself into a corner and waited.

5:45 passed before the entryway door opened and Faith heard her target enter, humming to himself. Faith couldn’t see him, but she heard him walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. She kept waiting, still and silent, as he put something in the microwave and turned it on. 

A last meal. Fitting.

When she heard him sit down and begin to eat, Faith peeled herself off the wall and approached, taking out her butterfly knife from her jacket. 

“Hello, John,” she said softly. Olsen tensed in his seat, before he shot to his feet and spun to face her, eyes wide and afraid.

Faith smiled.

Olsen crashed to the ground.

“Yeah… if you were wondering why your milk tasted strange… I broke into a hospital last night and stole some rocuronium. You’re feeling pretty weak right about now, but I think we have a few minutes before you lose motion of your diaphragm. As someone who nearly drowned in their own blood back in Las Vegas, I can assure you suffocation is no pleasant way to die. Now, I’m not generally one for sadism, but I thought I’d make an exception. Be happy: I find you special.”

“Faith,” Olsen gasped, trying to push himself back to his feet. Faith put a foot on his chest, not hard enough to break bones, but enough to make his breaths come out as ragged gasps.

“So you know my name,” Faith said.

“You… are a rogue Viper. Who worked with my... coworker,” he said.

“Ah, yes. Dante Hill. Coworker is certainly one way to put it,” Faith said, taking her foot off of his chest and knelt down next to him, close enough that she could hear the quick rasps of his breath, see his arms and legs twitch, becoming more and more feeble. “Though I hear you’ve taken more personal interest in him, lately. I mean, how could you not? A pretty fascinating advancement, those Vessels are. And when the original is standing right in front of you...” She tapped his forehead with her knife, and saw he still had enough muscle control to flinch. 

Faith grinned. “I wonder how much of that information you’ve collected is only comprehensible to you. How much of that  _ fascinating _ project will die with you.”

“How do you know?” he rasped, each breath more labored than the last. “Did that— Mr. Hill tell you?”

Faith ignored that question, because he didn’t deserve answers.

“Are you scared?” she asked instead. “Your limbs are staring to go numb, your lungs are burning, and everything’s starting to go blurry. Even if you could call emergency services, they’d only get here in time to find your cooling body. And I didn’t even have to use a weapon.” She flicked the edge of the knife over his cheek, leaving a trail of blood. “Really, you killed yourself. I didn’t even have to stick around to see it, really. But what can I say? I like to know a job is finished.”

His breath came in a rattle. His eyes were wide and desperate, conveying everything he couldn’t get the air to say. He was scared of his own mortality. He was too proud to beg. He thought Faith a monster and a sadist.

Faith didn’t care if she were either one, because she wasn’t letting him escape with something as painless as a bullet to the back of the head.

“Why?” he gasped. “I am… nothing to you.”

“Well, you could say it’s a lot of things.” Faith shrugged. “That I can’t let the Vessel project continue now that I’m rogue, or that you’re posing a threat to Cobalt’s underground, the people who have the best chance of taking me in, or even that you’re a potential danger to a former ally, but in all honesty?” 

She smiled softly, and plunged the knife into his chest. His breath rattled in his chest as she twisted it deeper and leaned in close, grabbing the collar of his shirt. When she spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. There was no one else that needed to hear them.

“You hurt my friend, so you have to die.”

He didn’t respond to that. His eyes weren’t glazed over with death, but he wasn’t breathing anymore. Faith gave him two minutes before he lost the fight against suffocation. Two minutes before a leader of the Vessel Project was gone, and a pushy bastard wouldn’t be able to hurt someone who hadn’t learned how to say no.

For that, the blood on her hands was more than worth it. 

“Have a nice trip to wherever you go,” She took the knife out and flicked the blood off before standing. “Personally, I don’t care where it is, so long as it’s not here.”

Faith turned and went back up the stairs.

One hour later, the fire department finished extinguishing a house fire and found a charred body in the wreckage. A town over, a teenage girl stepped off a bus and checked into a motel, ready to plan what the rest of her life would hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I finish writing something, I immediately forget how to write post-chapter notes. That's nice. (To everyone hoping for romance in their Valentine's Day chapter... I marked this as slow-burn for a reason. Wait until installment two: title unknown.)
> 
> Anyway, 74,600 words later, and I'm done! I really loved writing this, and I'm super happy (and still surprised) about the amount of reception it got. Really, I am thrilled that y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope that you enjoy installment 2 as much as I do thus far. Though I have a few projects to work on before I dedicate serious time to [Title Pending], I'm looking forward to it. If you want to hear more from me, I have a [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/talonsaga-trash) where you can see my art (I do art!), see other works, send questions/messages pertaining to our favorite murder-teen, etc. 
> 
> Also, I ask for this often, but since it's the last chapter, a review would be greatly cherished, now and five years from now. Also, if the people who subscribed want to easily find this fic now that it's not updating, I highly recommend bookmarking this fic or subscribing to the series as a whole.
> 
> Stay updated! I'll be back!

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I love and appreciate reviews, will reply to all of them, and will read them when I am feeling like my life is meaningless and there is no world outside of my self-imposed quarantine bc I live with an immunocompromised person.


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